


Club Trinity

by Minxie



Series: Trinity [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: KINK: D/s, M/M, OTHER: Lilin, OTHER: Vampires, VERSE: Trinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Detective Zane Jefferies wants to do is stop the serial killer that's terrorizing the leather scene in his town. He never expects the manhunt to include things like Lilin, vampires, and bond mates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club Trinity

**Author's Note:**

> Mad love to @shinyredrain for the hours spent discussing this (and others in this 'verse), to @aislinntlc for the beta read and the encouragement to _do something_ with this little tale of mine, and to @leela_cat, @thraceadams, and Becky for being awesome cheerleaders. ♥♥♥ you all. This would not have been anything but an idea without _all_ of you.

_**Jonathon** _

_Standing within the shadows, I can't help but admire my work. The naked light bulb plays to each of the dips and valleys of his body, from the cords standing out in his neck to the taut strength of his calves. Even the tiniest rivulets of blood are sharper, caught in the bright wattage of the bulb. He sways from the chains, exhausted but not yet ready to quit._

_The fear is flowing off of him, such a difference to the blazing arousal that had started this journey. It is practically a tangible third in this little room of horrors. Broken, bloodied, and bruised. His body maps our entire night together. Come and blood and tears mixing together, matching the emotions of the night: arousal, life, and sorrow._

_When I sniff the air I can taste the passions I have wrought from him, pulled from his being with every kiss, every touch. It is that, the genuineness of mortal emotion, that feeds me, keeping me alive as much as the blood that I must consume._

_The welts across his thighs are swollen and raised, pulsing an angry red as his muscles, strained from pushing higher onto his tiptoes, tremble beneath the skin. The coiled whip nestled at my side calls to me, it would have decorated his legs beautifully with tight lines that paralleled and crossed, making a unique tartan to mark the pleasure of the night. It is something to keep in mind for the next boy that catches my interest._

_"Ready for the grand finale?"_

_He moans, his head lolling side-to-side in a feeble attempt to deny me. It brings a small chuckle as my lips curve into a smirk. I chose wisely. This one is an optimist, fighting against me until his last breath, holding onto the idea that I will set him free, that he will live to see another day._

_The poor trusting boy. He is a fool._

_"Just a few more minutes then." I step in close to his body and inhale again. The scent is absolutely divine; the final burst of adrenaline-fueled fear is lovely. A pitiful sound trickles from his throat as he forces his head higher, forces himself look me in the eye. It is then I twist my lips into a mockery of a smile, giving him the first glimpse of my fangs. He stiffens and then, seemingly resolved to his fate at last, he goes limp, hanging from the chains like a rag doll._

_His acceptance is sublime. He is absolute perfection in every way: his marks, his emotion, his blood._

_For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he realizes just where he went wrong, which misstep left him stranded in my clutches. His need had been overwhelming; he'd been broadcasting his every thought, making himself easy to pursue, to capture._

_I tilt my head to study him, to burn this image to my mind, and discover that ultimately his knowledge matters not. He gets no second chance._

_He belongs to me and I belong to the night._

 

_**1.** _

Zane wheels into the parking lot and curses. There's no good time for a murder, but dragging out at three o'clock on a Friday morning is way too early to be dealing with this shit. Add in that Arcanum is his old haunt and the night just keeps getting better. "Murder among friends," he mutters. "Sounds like a Lifetime movie of the week."

Clusters of people, some that he knows on an intimate level, are caught in the bright glare of multiple headlights. The rotating flare of the red and blue emergency strobes highlights little moments, giving Zane tinted bursts of raw emotions: anger and fear, helplessness and disbelief.

He shakes his head. Some of the witnesses are still deep enough in their headspace that keeping them outside, bundled in blankets and leather jackets, means shock is the only thing they can register. They will be absolutely useless. Dammit.

Slamming the car door behind him, Zane pushes his way through the crowd. Ignoring the murmurs of his name and the hands raised in greeting, he strides directly to the uniform on the door. There'll be time enough to deal with familiar faces later. Signing in, he asks, "What's the story?"

The young officer looks up. "It's a good one in there, sir."

Zane rolls his eyes. 'Good in there' translates to bloody and, unless the killer managed to off himself, hard to solve. Fucking great. "CSU?"

"Parked 'round back. Been here fifteen minutes or so."

"Good." Zane mentally checks that off his to-do list. Heading towards the double doors, he says, "And, dude, the name is Jefferies or Detective. Call me sir again and I'll deck ya. Clear?"

The startled look is enough to make Zane chuckle. Breaking in the newbies is always entertaining.

"Find something funny, Jefferies?"

The amusement fades instantly. Reminding himself that his partner, asshole tendencies aside, is a skilled detective, Zane drawls, "Miller. Figured you'd have found a way out of this one."

Andy Miller, paunchy and middle-aged, glares at Zane. "'Bout time you got your lazy ass here. CSU won't touch a thing until your precious self has seen it."

Zane welcomes that piece of news. It means it's most likely Lisa's team; they've pulled enough scenes together that she knows to leave it alone. Zane's smile comes back, a lot more wicked than amused. Her sense of humor will help keep Miller out of the room, sick bitch that she is. He loves that about her. "Down the hall?"

Miller nods and follows Zane through the harshly lit club. Looking around, Zane grimaces. Place looks better with the lights turned down low. Miller's voice, sarcastic and full of distaste, brings Zane back to the reason he's finally returned to Arcanum. "Guy was caught in the backroom with his hands high and his pants down."

"We know anything more than that?" Zane asks, because, really, how else did Miller expect to find a victim in the playroom of a leather bar if not bound and naked?

"Vic is in his early twenties, well known with the staff, here almost every weekend. Bartender – a Richard Hollows – ID'ed him as Jonathon Wells. They found him when they started clearing the rooms before closing." Miller flips the small notebook closed.

Closing his eyes, Zane sighs. He doesn't know the kid, thank fuck. It would've hurt to give the case over to someone else. Then the rest of Miller's statement filters in and Zane adds a private chat with Ricky to his list. That's one reunion he won't be able to push off until tomorrow. He really hasn't had enough sleep – or coffee – for this one. "Anything about who our Mr. Wells was playing with tonight?"

"Place was dark, none of the staff knows for sure who he came back here with. According to the bartender, though, girlfriend is out of town for the weekend. This was a one off for little Johnny."

Zane stops short. Without turning, he asks, "You gonna be able to shelf that attitude or not?"

"No matter how I feel about certain proclivities, I'll do my job. You know that as well as I do." Miller steps close enough for his breath to ghost over Zane's neck. "I get that this is your _scene_ , Jefferies. I'm assuming that's why we were called in on it. This shouldn't even be our case. I should still be at home in my bed."

It takes a long count of ten, Zane biting his tongue the entire time, before he replies. "True, L.T. gave it to us as soon as the location was known. He told me to run with it." He stops and takes a deep breath. And then another. Dragging a hand through his hair, sending his sandy brown hair into disarray, Zane looks over his shoulder. "Like you said, this is my scene. I can promise you those people out there won't give anyone else the time of day, much less any information worth pursuing. Now, either drop the fucking attitude or get the hell out. I'll work this alone before I'll waste my time fighting with you."

"Separate corners, gentlemen." The appearance of the county medical examiner does nothing to break the building tension. "I was told to see Detective Jefferies about this one." Stepping around Andy, Jasmine Elders adds, "When you're ready, Detective. I'd like to get this body in before the sun comes up."

"Right behind you, Doc." Zane holds Miller's gaze. "In or out?"

"You've got no right talking to me like that." Zane refuses to react. He's been in stare-downs with people a hell of a lot more intimidating than Miller. Finally, with a sigh, Miller backs down. "In."

Zane nods sharply and turns. He has a murder to solve and getting into a pissing contest with his partner isn't going to make it happen. Besides, he tells himself, Andy really is a good cop and turning away good help would just be stupid. He hasn't been stupid in at least a year, no reason to start again now.

The scent of death – blood and urine and the underlying smell of loss – fills the hallway long before the door is within reach. Zane stops beside an opened crime scene case, grabbing booties and then reaching for the gloves. He hands a pair of each off to Miller and, after they're both covered up, he steps into the room. Whistling low in his throat, he mutters, "Fuck."

Lisa lowers her camera and, raising a dark eyebrow, replies, "Why, yes, I do believe he was doing just that."

Behind Zane, Miller groans, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. Zane holds back the bubble of laughter. There's no reason to encourage her, even if the teasing has made the scene more bearable. Tugging Lisa's ponytail, he teases, "Shouldn't you be dusting for prints or something?"

"Just waitin' on your pretty ass to get here." 

"First lazy, and now pretty. I'm thinking all of y'all are way too interested in my ass tonight." Mindful of the possible evidence, Zane keeps his tour of the room to the perimeter. There will be time enough later to look at things from the vic's position. Slouching against the wall, he scrubs a hand over his face and asks, "All right, then, how'd we find him?"

All pretense of joking bleeds out of the room. Its one more reason Zane likes working with Lisa. She knows when to get down to business. Flicking her hand against the switch, Lisa brings down the room lights until the body is swaying beneath a single bulb. "Showcased," she replies. "Best I can tell he was struck from all sides, plenty of different tool marks but I doubt any of them were fatal. The lack of spatter," and she points to the floor and walls, "says his heart had stopped by the time his throat was slashed."

"What are you not saying?"

Lisa looks over to the Jasmine. "It's really Doc Elders' call."

"Go ahead," Jasmine prompts, gloves snapping in to place. "There's nothing wrong with discussing theories."

Lisa gnaws her bottom lip, finally blurting, "There's hardly any blood here at all but the dude looks damn close to dry. Where the hell did the blood go?"

"Good question, Ms. Abrams. One that I'm sure to repeat once I get him on the table." Looking pointedly at Zane, Jasmine asks, "Detective, are we done playing in the dark?"

"Bring the lights up and let's turn this room over to the doc." Squeezing Lisa's shoulder as he passes, Zane said, "When Jasmine gets done, it's all yours, Lisa."

"Gee, thanks, baby." Head tilted to the side and a hand over heart, she says, "You always did give me the best presents."

He snorts and keeps walking. The love he has for Lisa is probably, at the very least, a little inappropriate. The package is pretty – olive skin and big brown eyes – but it's her quick, sassy mouth that he finds irresistible. "We got anyone on outside shots, Lisa? I want the crowd before they all scatter." 

"Olsen's already out front, faces and plates," she says, tossing a thumb towards the front of the club. "Blains and Reilly have the bar."

Zane nods and then slips out of the room, trusting that Lisa has it under control. He stops in the hallway and, toeing off the booties, looks around. The back door would have made the perfect escape route, assuming it isn't hooked to an automatic alarm. Smirking, he shrugs his shoulders. There's only one real way to find out.

"You better have gloves on, Jefferies," Lisa hollers when the door alarm trills.

"My prints are on file," he calls over his shoulder. "It'll be easy enough for your crack team to exclude 'em."

"Damn it, Zane!"

He waits until she's stalked half way down the hall, then, grinning like a wild man, he waves, wiggling each gloved finger in turn. He holds the laughter off until the door slams shut behind him, pulling the gloves off and shoving them into his pocket between chuckles.

It's a good thing he doesn't go for skirts, he thinks for about the hundredth time since meeting Lisa. He'd be tempted into sex with her and that would ruin a perfectly good thing.

***

Hugging the edge of the building, Zane moves from the back to the front parking lot without being seen. He still thinks it's the perfect escape route. Except for the blaring alarm thing. That marks paid to that possible escape method, no matter how prime it appears to be.

He's missing something. He huffs a curse and looks around. Missing shit annoys the fuck all out of him. 

Despite the lack of spatter in the room, Zane doesn't believe for a minute the perp wasn't dotted in blood. Not with the sheer number of open marks on the body. The impacts might not have had enough force behind them to reach the walls, but they damn well would have reached the person wielding the cane.

He knows the club, knows the players. No way, not even on a busy Friday night could someone walk out through the crowd speckled in blood and _not_ be noticed. Too many unattached subs looking for a little play, any of them into blood play would've been all over the perp. To make a clean escape, there _had_ to have been a secondary way out.

Stepping away from the building, Zane glances over the crowd, acknowledging friendly faces with a nod of his head, making note of those he claims as associates and those he doesn't recognize. There're more of the latter than he expected; he didn't think it'd been that long since Arcanum was his stomping ground.

Zane pauses, feet stuttering to a stop when his gaze catches on a familiar pair of icy, almost colorless eyes. He cocks his head to the side and stares, wondering what in the hell Adrian Ciorbea is doing at his crime scene. 

Then he gets a closer look. The guy – tall and broad, dark hair disappearing in the shadows – isn't Adrian. He just looks enough like him to be his damn brother. 

The unnaturally unabashed response from the guy – the unflinching return of Zane's assessing look – piques Zane's interest even more than the familiar face. Very few people will meet a cop head on, especially when they're loitering at an active crime scene. That this stranger does makes Zane want to walk over and introduce himself.

He tries telling himself that his curiosity has everything to do with the job, and nothing of a more personal nature. He knows the lie for what it is. There's a ridiculous amount of personal interest, an absurd amount of instant attraction. Cursing, he pulls his gaze away from the guy and refocuses on the real issue: Jonathon Wells. 

A lifeless body will trump a possible attraction every time. 

"Ricky," he says, scanning the crowd again. "Find Ricky, asshole."

It's an easy enough thing to do. Ricky is the epitome of unforgettable; his hair too long to be considered conventional, the tats inked into his arms the far side of acceptable. At first glance, he's every mother's nightmare. Zane knows Ricky is really just a big teddy bear.

"Long time, brother," Zane says in greeting.

"I thought that was you slinking in." Ricky reaches out and claps Zane on the shoulder, his fingers tightening for a second. "How you been, man?"

Zane guides them to the fringe of the crowd, picking a spot that provides not only privacy but also gives him a clear view of all the bystanders. He keeps an eye on Olsen as he moves on the edge of the crowd, watching as his finger controls the shutter of the camera over and over. With an extreme amount of effort, Zane resists the urge to find the guy with demanding eyes. He can only hope that Olsen is as good as Lisa claims, that he catches the man in a frame. "Been working nonstop. Seems people keep getting themselves killed in this town."

"So that's why we haven't seen you in a while? Working, huh?" Ricky gives him a look of pure disbelief. "Doesn't have anything to do with your new membership uptown?"

Zane has the good grace to blush. "Yeah, man, you know how it is. I haven't even been to Trinity much lately." 

"Liar." The rebuke is softened with a smile and a nudge to the shoulders. "The scene ain't that big, Zane. Everybody talks about everybody else. And you've always been a hot topic, yeah? Badass cop on the job, perfect little sub when you're not. Every man on the scene wants to be the one that gets you to settle down. Besides, your eyes still give you away. That pretty hazel color gets darker when you lie."

The blush staining Zane's cheeks darkens. He curses the fair skin his mother gifted him with. "Ricky, please…"

"I know, man. Not now." 

Not now sounds good to Zane. Not ever would be better, even if it is unrealistic. "I gotta concentrate on this, Ricky. This is too big to push to the back burner for a round of playing catch-up."

"I know. You always were a cop first." Ricky pushes his hands into his pockets and breathes in deep. "Was it as bad as everyone keeps sayin'?"

"Yeah, man, pretty nasty," Zane says, not even thinking about holding back. Ricky is in the clear, was on the bar the whole night. Plus Zane has subbed for Ricky more than once. The trust built between them there carries over. Until someone puts Ricky in the room with Jonathon Wells, Zane is going to trust him. "Tell me about him, about Jonathon." 

 

_**2.** _

The cup of coffee in Zane's hand is making him more sociable. Or at least as sociable as he's going to be six hours into a shift that started as early as this one did. "What've we got?" 

Lisa looks up and frowns. She looks as exhausted as he feels. Hair is escaping her ponytail, framing her face with wayward curls, and dark smudges are forming beneath her eyes. He wants to send her home, tell her to get some rest and come back when she can get hair under control. "Besides a ton of fingerprints and semen stains?"

Zane winces. He can't help it. He _knows_ what that particular room is used for, been there a few times himself. "Anything we can use?"

"Doubt it," Lisa replies. "We've ruled out the vic –" _Jonathon_ , Zane interrupts "– and some of the other prints have popped on older arrests and gun cards. We've cross-referenced them with the witness statements. Seriously, Zee, this is one that'll keep you up all night."

"No shit," Zane mutters. And not just because of the lack of evidence. Someone is invading his playground, the place where he goes to let loose and decompress. Someone is taking away the one place he isn't _Detective Jefferies_. He's afraid he's not going to be able to go back to the club and lose himself to his submission until after this case is solved. Not with this jackass out there attacking his friends, his family. He's not sure that he'll be able to hit his knees for a stranger even after he bags this sick bastard. Not until enough time passes that he's not seeing Jonathon every time he closes his eyes. He is so beyond that little fact that pissed doesn't even begin to cover it. "What about the crowd pics?"

Eyes narrowed, Lisa hits him with a calculating stare as she tosses a stack of photos his way. "Something you wanna share?"

"Probably not," Zane says, flipping through each of the pictures. "There was this one dude though…"

"He make your gut itch?"

Sighing, Zane shakes his head. "Not really. He looked familiar at first. And then… then he stared _back_."

"Really, now?" One of Lisa's eyebrows wings high. "And that didn't make your spidey sense tingle?"

"Fuck off, spidey sense." Zane shoots her the bird just to reinforce his lack of amusement. He hears enough about following his gut from Miller. "But, no, it didn't."

He totally leaves off the fact that it _did_ make his nipples hard. No way is he giving her that kind of ammunition. 

"Is he there?" She asks when he starts through the pictures a second time. 

"Huh. No," he murmurs, studying each photo more intently. "He's not."

"What's your spidey sense saying now, big guy?"

Rolling his eyes, Zane hip checks her as he walks by. He's not going to justify that with a response. Partly because Lisa is right – now his gut is twisting over the dude in a whole different way – and partly because he should have been focused solely on the case to begin with. And partly because, even with the unknown shit floating around this guy, his dick still wants to weigh in on the matter. "I'm going to check in with Jasmine, see if she loves me more than you do."

He catches Lisa sticking her tongue out in answer as he rounds the doorway.

***

Zane hates the morgue. Hates it. It's not the bodies; after five years working homicide he's grown accustomed to those. It's the way the sounds, even the softest footfalls, echo off the tiled walls and the metal tables. Nothing should be this insanely quiet.

"Detective," Jasmine greets when Zane pushes into the autopsy room. Unlike him, she's showing none of the wear of an oh-dark-thirty call out. He doesn't know how she does it. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Stopped to see Lisa first, see if we had any early returns." Zane heads to the nearest empty table and hoists himself up, feet kicking back and forth in front of him. "What can you tell me?"

"Lisa was correct," Jasmine says. "He was bled out."

"Totally dry?"

"Very near," she replies. "There are numerous welts and lacerations. Over fifty percent of his body has bruising showing beneath the skin."

"So those happened before his heart stopped."

"Indeed, but not too long before time of death." Jasmine confirms. "Mr. Wells was worked over pretty hard before he died. The trauma to his back and shoulders…"

Zane tunes most of Jasmine's commentary out, cataloguing each mark as she points to it, making his own list of possible tools. Each one is precise, clean in a way that screams experience. He's definitely not looking for someone new to the scene. There was nothing inexperienced or accidental about this at all. If he can identify a specific affinity for a crop or a cane or a blade it may help some of his contacts narrow down the suspect pool. It's a long shot, but it's also the only lead he's had so far.

"I believe that here, these two puncture marks on his neck, is the source of the blood removal."

"Wait. What?" Zane slides off the table and moves to stand behind Jasmine. Being careful to not touch, he points at two small wounds bulging from the slice to his throat. "Those?"

"Yes. The laceration to his throat came after, the edges show no signs of bleed out or clotting."

"So, what?" Zane reaches for a pair of gloves, snugging them over his fingers and wrists as he asks, "Someone stuck tubes in him and milked him dry, then cut his throat? To do what? Distort the wound track?"

"I can't really explain it," Jasmine says, frustration obvious in her voice. "But, yes, it is my belief that when this is solved, that will be confirmed as the bleed out point. There was no reason to slash his throat."

Zane grins despite the circumstances. Jasmine always has faith that the cases will be solved. Her never-ending confidence is good for his soul. Someone has to believe that right will always win in the end. Gently, his uses two fingers to hold the edges of the skin together, to get a facsimile of the two punctures. "Looks almost like a snake bite."

"Only from the outside." Jasmine heads to a row of x-ray lights and points to the third one in. "See here, the wound paths are straight in. If it were a snake, they'd curve."

"Yeah, okay," Zane says, eyeballing the black and white film. "So I'm looking for something with two prongs, both with extremely sharp points."

"Yes, and as you can see, the depth is nothing extraordinary. The tool would be small, easily hidden." 

"But where did the blood go?"

Canting her head towards Zane, Jasmine says, "That, detective, is for you to find out. However, I would appreciate knowing after you have discovered the answer."

"Curiosity up, Jasmine?"

"You could say that."

"Worse than a cat, I swear," Zane says. "Soon as I know, you'll know. And if you find anything else…"

"I'll call you," Jasmine finishes. "Go on, then. Go solve this. My report, including any information from tox, will be up in a few hours, definitely before I call it a day and go home."

"Thanks, darlin'," Zane says, shouldering his way out of the swinging doors.

***

He needs to go back to Arcanum. Needs to look around, walk through it without all of the techs and cops and bystanders that a fresh murder brings. Grabbing his keys, he looks over at Miller and debates telling him, inviting him to go with him. He'll get further if the man isn't around, but leaving him out of the loop just begs for pure hell at work. Sighing, he says, "I'm heading back to the scene. Coming?"

"I'll pass," Miller replies. "Matching up all of these statements, see if some kind of inconsistency stands out."

Nodding, Zane offers up a silent thank you to the universe. It'll be easier to sink into Jonathon's point of view if the heavy weight of Miller's disapproval isn't resting on his shoulders. "Unless something breaks, I'll catch you back here in the morning then."

"Yup," Miller says offhandedly, reading witness statement and making notes.

Zane is dialing Ricky's number before he's out of the building.

***

"Walk me through it. Jonathon was here on his own, he comes in, orders…" Zane looks over to Ricky, eyebrow cocked in question.

"Straight cranberry juice," Ricky supplies. "Nothing more than one beer allowed when Tracy is out of town." 

"Tracy Jefferson?"

Zane closes his eyes and sighs when Ricky says, "Yeah. She is going to be fucked up over this."

"Our ME made the call. I'll make sure I meet her at the airport when her flight lands." Dragging a hand through his hair, Zane curses, "Goddammit. I didn't make the connection earlier."

"I didn't tell you, told that weasel you work with."

"Miller's an ass, but he's a good cop. He notices shit." Zane feels a ridiculous need to defend Miller, brothers in blue and all that shit. Besides, it's the truth. The man is tenacious on a case and has the habit of offsetting his ability to be an ass with unexpected bursts of concern and insight. It doesn't mean Zane likes him though. "So, no liquor. Was Jonathon more likely to play with a woman?"

Ricky shakes his head. "Six of one, half dozen of the other. Without Tracy here, sex would've been off the menu. If the needs clicked, then it wouldn't have mattered if it was a woman or not."

"Okay." Zane makes a note to ask Jasmine about penetration, and for fluids found on Jonathon. Anyone who is gonna kill someone is not going to follow a no sex stipulation if they don't want to. "No booze to hinder his reaction time, no sex on the table. He was pretty hardcore; to contract with Trace he'd have to be."

"Yeah," Ricky nods, stepping behind the bar and grabbing a ginger ale for Zane, a bottle of beer for himself. "Serious pain kinks. Liked to have the marks, but shied away from blood play." 

"I'm hating the fact that there are no cameras in here, yanno?"

"Me too, man. Been telling the higher ups we should have them. This'll probably set that into motion." Ricky comes around and smacks Zane on the shoulder. "So, he got his juice and then disappeared into the crowd. I didn't see him again."

"You weren't his safe call?" Zane frowns. Ricky was usually the safe call for the regulars. Especially when he was behind the bar. "That unusual?"

"Very. Trace never demanded he use me, but she did mention that she preferred it." Ricky shrugs, "So he usually did. Jonathon knew the ropes; he wasn't green to playing."

"So as far as you knew, Jonathon was on the floor just having a good time?"

"Yeah," Ricky mutters, draining his beer. "Maybe if I'd been paying closer attention…"

Zane pushes away from the wall. "Don't go there, man. It's a road that leads to nowhere good."

***

Zane steps into the kill room alone and flips the switch, illuminating the single light in the center of the room. He tries picturing it from the perp's point of view. It had been artistic, the light banking off Jonathon's skin, highlighting the high points and throwing the valleys into darkness.

And then, too easy for comfort, he slips into Jonathon's mindset. The man had to've been flying high on endorphins. Every touch of leather against skin would have just pushed him higher and higher into that blissed out, white noise space. His brain would've been foggy, his body lax. 

Zane wonders how soon before the end Jonathon realized he was fucked. Because there is no doubt that he figured it out. There had to've been a moment, maybe just a fraction of a second, when everything tilted sideways and it went from oh-so-damn good to really fucking bad.

Shuddering, Zane backs out of the room. He knows that feeling, the final push that makes you safe out, the rapid fast heartbeats that happen when you wonder if your word will be honored, if the play is going to end and you'll be back in control of the situation, of yourself. 

What happened to Jonathon Wells is every sub's nightmare at one point or another. Unfortunately for Jonathon, the nightmare became reality.

 

_**3.** _

Zane drags ass into the station wearing yesterday's clothes. He'd gone straight from the club to the airport and then spent the rest of the night letting Tracy cry on his shoulder. Saturday already officially sucks as much as Friday did.

"Never made it home, Jefferies?" Miller pushes a fresh cup of coffee in front of Zane. "Does that mean you found something? Did this asshole screw up somewhere?"

He doesn't even look up, just tosses a pad full of notes across the desk. "Met the girlfriend at the airport, turns out I know her. Spent the night consoling her."

Miller grunts and starts reading through Zane's shorthand. "Nothing in here."

"No shit. I'd have called if something had turned up." Zane tips his coffee back and takes a long draw. It's stuff like this, the small courtesies that Miller shows that keeps Zane from killing him when he's hell bent on being an ass. "Where are we at?"

"Nowhere." Miller rubs a hand over his eyes. "The only thing we have is some type of enzyme around the punctures that showed up on tox. None of our people have come across it before and it's drivin' them crazy. That's it. No prints, no DNA. Nothing from the perp except for this thing no one has seen before. As far as Wells goes, everyone loved the guy, his finances balance, nothing to indicate drug use. He was clean as a whistle, no skeletons at all. So, unless something shakes loose at his place of employment, we got nothing."

"Someone tracking the enzyme thing?"

"Yup," Miller replies. "Doctor Elders is making it her business. Unless it turns out to be something from a research lab, I doubt it'll break the case for us. Just one more mystery in a shit pile of unsolvable things. Look, I know it isn't what you want to hear, but this guy is good. He left us zilch to go on."

Zane had figured that much out by himself. Having the confirmation from Andy just irritates him. "Fuck."

"Appropriate," Miller says. "We need ears on the ground, Jefferies. Our break is going to have to come from overhearing something, being there when someone is bragging it up. Because it sure as hell isn't going to come from the evidence."

"Yeah, yeah." Zane had already figured that much out, thanks so fucking much. "I'll go to Trinity tonight, see if there's talk going on."

He holds back that he wants to talk to Adrian, find out if Trinity's owner knows anything about his look alike. 

"Not Arcanum?"

"Still shut down," Zane says. "I'll clear 'em to reopen tomorrow or the day after. Force everyone into the other Saturday night hotspots."

"Smart," Miller says. "Thought all of those places were member clubs though."

"Upper floors only at Trinity. None at the Eagle." Zane leans back in his chair. "How'd you know that?"

"Heard you talking about it with Lisa one night."

Shaking his head, Zane points a finger at Miller. "Didn't your mother ever tell you eavesdroppers rarely hear shit they like?"

Miller's lips pucker, like they've suddenly encountered something sour. "Trust me, I backed out long before anything specific was said."

Chuckling, Zane rocks forward in his chair. "We gonna hit up his job?"

"I am," Miller responds, stacking all of the interviews neatly and pushing to a stand. "You are going home to catch some sleep."

"No way…"

"Shut up, Zane. You need to be at the top of your game tonight." Miller gives Zane a hard stare. "If I know you at all, you're going to insist on being in there without back-up."

"I know Trinity," Zane snaps, mulish and digging his feet in. He can do his damn job and still check out Trinity tonight.

"And Trinity knows you. Bet there isn't a single soul there that doesn't know you're a cop. If this jackass is there, you'll need to be running at a hundred percent." Miller grabs his keys off the desk. "Go home. If anything shows up, I'll wake your ass up."

"Again with my ass," Zane mutters, knowing Miller is right. "Seriously, as much as you've been talking about it lately, I'm beginning to think you're interested in it or something."

Andy flips him the finger. "Food, shower, sleep. In that order."

"Yeah, okay," Zane says, giving in because there is arguing because you're right and then there is arguing because you're a sleep-deprived idiot. He's coming too close to being the second one. Around a jaw-cracking yawn, he says, "Thanks, Andy."

***

Resetting the alarm system, Zane sighs, finally letting his guard down now that he's home. He's more tired than he'd realized. The hour catnap he'd managed on Tracy's couch is doing nothing to offset the thirty-two hours since he rolled onto the scene at Arcanum. Yawning, he mumbles, "Not as young as you used to be, boy."

His stomach growls as he passes the kitchen and he stops, turning midstride to retrace his last few steps, hooking a right into the kitchen. He's looking for a Friday night hook-up: fast and easy. He doesn't care so much if it's actually tasty at the moment. It takes seconds to make – and eat – a bowl of cereal.

"Cocoa Puffs to the rescue," he mutters around a mouthful, the cereal obviously the only thing standing between him and imminent starvation. 

He pours out a second bowl, adds a splash more of milk, and takes it with him, through the living room and into the master suite. Spooning up another mouthful, he toes off his shoes and heads straight for the bathroom. Plunking the spoon into the bowl, he reaches into the shower one-handed and turns on the water. Leaning against the counter, he finishes his dinner-breakfast-whatever. 

With his belly full, he makes the shower fast, using nothing but clinical movements that leave his skin pink and his eyes drooping.

Alarm clock set, he face plants on top of his bed and is asleep before the last of the water evaporates from his shoulders, the sound of Tracy's sobs following him through his dreams.

***

Sitting in the Trinity parking lot, Zane balls his hands into fists, clenching and releasing as he wrangles his thoughts under control. He's a mashed-up mess of relaxed – he'd needed the nap, okay – and pissed off – because, seriously, Jonathon Wells was a good fucking guy and, thirty-six hours later, they still have _no_ leads – and so antsy his skin is prickling, sure that this entire thing is about to go to shit.

The detective in Zane has no place at Trinity. That part of him is too in control, too dominating. And yet here he is, hidden behind the façade that everyone expects to see: Zane Jefferies, submissive. It's fucking with his head in an unpleasant way. 

Swallowing hard, he opens the door and pulls himself out of the car. He goes out of his way to not slam the door behind him, and then works even harder to not get back in the car and hightail it home. With a deep breath, he pushes forward, one step and then another and another, making his way confidently across the parking lot.

He nods at the bouncer and, once inside, bullies his way through the crowd to the bar. He'd give good money for a scotch neat right now, all the rules about not drinking on the job be damned.

"Well, hello there, _Detective_ ," the bartender greets. "Never thought I'd see the day you came in here on the job."

Wincing, Zane says, "That bad, Danni?"

"That obvious," she returns. Grabbing a bottle of scotch, she cocks a pale brow. "Neat, or are you really on the job still?"

"Just give me a ginger ale for now."

"So you did pull the case from Arcanum." Pushing a tall glass of ice and a can of ginger ale towards Zane, Danni shakes her head. "Thought that was just a rumor."

"I didn't know him, no conflict happening," Zane replies, popping the top on his soda. 

"But you know us," Danni supplies. "They assume we'll tell you more?"

"Something like that." Zane looks around the club. There're easily twice, probably creeping damn close to three times the usual number of faces. "Didn't expect it to be this fucking packed."

Danni chuckles softly. "Apparently everyone knows the cop working Jonathon's case plays here, makes it safer somehow."

Zane splutters around the mouthful of ginger ale, replaying the words in his head. They sound just as stupid as when Danni said them out loud. "Are you shittin' me?"

Pulling another draft, Danni looks over to Zane. "Not at all."

"Unreal," he mutters, looking around the club. There are a lot of familiar faces from Arcanum in the crowd. He starts a mental list of who to talk to and who to step around. There are some people he just doesn't want to see yet. Rapping his knuckles against the bar top, Zane says, "Keep that scotch close, I'll have one before I leave."

Danni nods and then, losing all trace of amusement, says, "Solve this one, Zane, and the top shelf will be on me."

"I'll hold you to that." Pushing off the stool, Zane points to the stairwell. "Adrian up there?"

"Yeah," she replies. "Been holed up since I got here at seven."

"I'll hit the floor after I talk to him," Zane tells her. "If anything looks shady though…"

"I'll interrupt."

"Loudly," he directs.

"You know it," Danni replies, grinning. "No one screams like I do."

***

Zane watches Adrian slide a worn parchment back into a protective sleeve, quietly muttering, "Such an arrogant bastard I was."

"Was?" Zane releases a disbelieving snort. "Hate to tell you, man, but there is no was to that at all. You're pretty much still an arrogant bastard."

Dropping the folder into a drawer, Adrian blindly flips Zane the bird. 

Laughing, Zane holds his position by the door.

"Business?" Adrian looks up and, when he sees Zane in the open door, his eyes widen a fraction. "Oh, yes. Definitely business. Is this about what happened at Arcanum?"

"In a way," Zane replies, smiling. Adrian is the second person who has noticed straight off that, even though he's dressed the same as always, Zane is entrenched in his cop persona. Acknowledging that these people see him, they go beyond the exterior to what is rolling around in his head, has a burst of warmth zipping through Zane. 

"Stop lurking in the doorway. It's disconcerting."

Zane looks around the office and sighs. He stays where he is, a foot in the office, the other in the hallway. "I don't like being here in this capacity."

Adrian frowns, his light grey-blue eyes narrowing. "Would you rather someone else work the case?"

"No," Zane snaps. "I don't trust…"

"Exactly," Adrian interrupts, smirking. "You don't trust. Not easily."

"I want his killer."

"We all do." Adrian motions Zane in, points at the chair across from his desk. "Get in here and ask your questions, Zane."

Zane drops down into the leather chair across from Adrian. "So, this is probably going to sound weird, but I've got to ask. Do you have a brother?"

Surprise filters across Adrian's face. "I do."

"Got a picture?"

Adrian leans to the side and digs his wallet out of his back pocket. Flipping it open, he removes a picture and tosses it across the table. "My younger siblings, Stephen and Larissa."

Zane's almost afraid to look, not sure exactly what he's going to say if it was Adrian's brother in the crowd outside Arcanum last night. Slowly he picks the photo up. And then releases a fast whooshing breath. Same facial structure, totally different coloring. "It's not him."

"Pardon?"

"Your brother, his eyes look more like a wolf." Zane reaches out, holding the photo towards Adrian.

"Yes. He takes after my mother, while I look like my grandfather." Adrian slips the photo back into his wallet. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

"I thought I saw you in the crowd at Arcanum last night." Zane holds up a hand when Adrian starts to speak. "Then, when I took a closer look, I realized it wasn't you. Just someone who looked remarkably like you. Same glacier blue eyes, same dark hair. But he was broader in the shoulders, chin a little more pointed. Hair looked longer, but it was dark."

Recognition flares bright in Adrian's eyes.

Gut going tight, Zane says, "You know who I'm talking about." 

"It's sounds like my cousin, Lucas." Adrian shakes his head. "But, he doesn't live in Florida. Not even close to Florida."

Zane weighs the words, takes in the tone and the immediate way Adrian is answering his questions. He believes him. If this Lucas guy is involved, Adrian doesn't know about it. "Visiting, maybe?"

"He hasn't checked in with me if he is."

"Where does he live, Adrian?" When Adrian narrows his eyes, Zane adds, "You know I've got to check him out. He was in the crowd but disappeared before he was caught on film. That makes him a suspect."

"Nevada. Tahoe, to be exact," Adrian replies, voice soft. "Surely you don't believe…"

"I have to follow the leads. No matter where they take me, I have to follow them." Zane manages to keep his voice from sounding apologetic. "Got a contact number?"

"I do." Adrian grabs a business card and flips it over. "Cell?"

"It'd help me rule him out without adding his name to the file." Zane takes the card Adrian pushes across the table, looking over the penciled number on the back. Definitely not a Florida area code. He'll call from his cell; make sure there is a record of the call in case this does shake out the completely wrong way. "Thanks."

"He is more easily reached in the evening hours."

Zane snorts softly. "Is being a night owl a family trait?"

"Actually," a deep voice rumbles from the doorway, "it is."

When Adrian's eyes go wide, Zane looks over his shoulder. And immediately draws in a ragged breath. He was wrong last night. The eyes are nothing like Adrian's. They're so much more. More inviting, more challenging. More seductive. "Christ."

"Zane," Adrian says, voice full of shocked resignation, "my cousin, Lucas Moreau. Lucas, may I present Detective Zane Jefferies."

***

It takes several long seconds for Zane to kick himself back into the game. Standing, he holds out a hand, "Um, hi."

"Detective," Lucas replies as he wraps Zane's hand in his. It takes everything in Zane to _not_ react. "A pleasure."

"Zane, please." Zane stuffs his hand into his pocket, curling his fingers in as much as the tight denim allows. It doesn't stop his fingers from tingling in the wake of Lucas' touch, but it does keep him from staring at his hand. "The detective is someone I try to keep out of Trinity as much as I can."

"How often does that work for you?" Lucas asks, stepping into Zane's personal space.

"More often than not," Adrian answers, his voice holding a tight edge that Zane recognizes as anger. "Your timing is impeccable, Lucas. I believe Zane has a few questions for you. If you're amenable, of course."

Lucas smirks. "I suppose Detective was the more appropriate greeting, Zane."

Zane swallows once and then, squaring his shoulders, he says, "Off the record. For now, at least."

Reeking of confidence – of innocence, Zane tells himself – Lucas spreads his hands. "Ask away." 

"I saw you last night, at Arcanum." It's more statement than question, but it's what Zane needs confirmation of first. Plus, it gives him a minute to tamp down the attraction and refocus on the case.

"You did. I was there for a few minutes." Lucas pulls the chair Zane was using closer and claims it as his own, legs spread, fingers laced over his stomach.

Leaning against the corner of Adrian's desk, Zane says, "Why were you there?"

"I'd just arrived in town and followed the GPS to the nearest club thinking it would be Adrian's. A mistake, as I found out."

Zane looks towards Adrian, finding that Adrian is focused on Lucas. He makes a mental note to get his opinion of Lucas' answers later. "And?"

"And," Lucas drawls, "with the commotion when I arrived, I was afraid something might have happened to Adrian. I got out and asked around, found out that I was at the wrong place. As crude as it sounds, it was a relief that I was wrong."

"Adrian didn't know you were coming." It's another statement. Adrian said he didn't know Lucas was in town, Zane believes that. He trusts Adrian. Lucas – no matter the enticement – is the wild card.

"I wanted to surprise him," Lucas replies.

Behind Zane, Adrian snorts. "Oh, you achieved that well enough."

Lucas flashes Adrian a fast smile. A smile that makes Zane's stomach flip. Lucas Moreau is dangerous. Dangerous for Zane. It'd be too easy to give into the fascination without knowing enough to make an informed decision. Zane is all about informed decisions. Usually. Right now he's not so sure.

Zane clears his throat, forcing his attention away from the intimate things he's picturing and back to the task at hand, and then says, "How long do you anticipate being in town, Mr. Moreau?"

After raking a very assessing look over Zane – head to toe and back again – Lucas says, "Indefinitely. And, really, Mr. Moreau was my father. I'm Lucas."

"Lucas," Zane allows, trying to ignore the _yes, yes, want_ zipping down his spine. It's harder to do than it should be. "If you're going to be here a while, I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Zane eases off of the desk and then, as he steps towards the door, says, "Adrian, I'll be on the floor for a bit. Going to try to talk to a few people before calling it a night."

Nodding, Adrian says, "If I hear anything of import, I'll call you."

"Thanks."

"And if you need anything…"

"You'll be the first to know." When Adrian arches a brow, Zane adds, "I know the rules."

"Fair enough," Adrian murmurs. "Stay safe out there, boy."

Before he shuts the door behind him, Zane says, "Promise."

And he will be safe. As long as he doesn't let himself think about Lucas Moreau at unsuitable times.

***

Five days and Zane finds Lucas isn't as hard to ignore as he'd feared. He's too busy seeing Jonathon's face when he closes his eyes, hearing Tracy's broken sobbing. Hours – at work and at home, on the clock and off – of fruitless investigation has Zane nearing his snapping point. He needs… needs a break in the case or some time out of his head or a _fucking_ break in the case.

And now the sun is setting on another Thursday and his gut is a thick knot of apprehension.

Tonight, he thinks. This is it. We're gonna lose someone else tonight. The problem is he doesn't have anything more than a hunch to go on. Nowhere near enough to get people to listen to him, to have more of a police presence at the clubs. 

If he's called out at three in the morning, he's going to lose his shit on someone.

 

_**Derrick** _

_Thursday night at the Eagle isn't as crowded as Arcanum. That is both good – makes it slightly more dangerous – and bad – there is nowhere near the depth to choose from. Men and women are spread out, nestled in little groups of two and three and four at the tables, most of them hiding in the shadows. Brazenly, I walk up to the bar and place my order. The chance of someone remembering me gives me something that the blood will not: the excitement of a possibility._

_Be it sex or murder, I've never found anything that can replace the thrill that comes with the threat of being discovered._

_Scanning the darkened bar, I assess potential playmates. And discard each one. Some are happy, content. Others are sad and melancholy. A few have enough drugs and alcohol in their system to be walking the edge of a blank slate. Every combination is here except the one I am looking for._

_None of them are desperate. And desperation is necessary. It tinges the blood with a spice no other emotion can emulate._

_Minutes tick off until an hour passes. I am close to giving up, to trying one of the other clubs in town. Maybe even returning to Arcanum. Feed off the fear that is sure to be pulsing thick and bright in everyone there._

_Pushing my untouched drink away, I stand up. Then, when the door opens and a group of men tumble in, I sit back down again. One in that number is filled – overflowing – with desperation, with the need to be wanted and claimed, be accepted and taken._

_From my place in the corner, I watch the cluster of men – boys, really – waiting for them to break away from one another enough for me to focus on them individually. Slowly, drinks in hand, they start fanning out. Two head to the poolroom, three more turn to the left and the rooms upstairs. It leaves three lounging at the bar, scoping out the club the same way I had been moments before._

_It's easy enough to find my mark, with the majority of the group gone and the conversation between the remaining few lost to other pursuits. I wait until his eyes – a deep shade of brown – flitter over my hide-away and then, when I'm sure his attention is on me, I motion to the empty seat across from me and flash a small, inviting smile._

_Grinning, he steps away from the bar and crosses the room, proud and undaunted. Reckless. Brave. Too trusting for his own good._

_Sliding into the seat across from me, he holds out a hand and says, "I'm Derrick."_

_Pretty, brave, desperate Derrick._

_Taking this one will be a pleasure._

 

_**4.**_

No wake-up call at three in the morning is doing Zane's soul – and motivation – good. The tight set of his shoulders is bleeding into something more comfortable, closer to the slouch that his mother had been despaired over the entirety of his teen years, and a wicked grin is curling the edges of his lips. He's ready to start digging into Jonathon's past again, thinking the kill may have been personal after all. A lover scorned and all of that. 

The upturn lasts for a sum total of five minutes after he enters the police station.

"We got another body," Andy says, meeting Zane at the door to homicide. "Sounds like a repeat of the Wells kid." 

"Goddammit," Zane hisses, pulling an about-face and following Miller back through the squad room. "Where at?"

"Realtor found him in an empty building, called it in about ten minutes ago."

"Business district?" Zane frowns. If their guy starts taking the vics offsite, they're in some kind of trouble.

"Waterfront," Miller says. "That stretch with the old bed and breakfast. One of the shops down there, used to be an art gallery. Abrams is already on her way, and Doctor Elders shouldn't be too far behind. They'll hold it for our arrival." 

"Goddammit," Zane says again, sliding into the passenger seat. "What do we know?"

"Not much. The area is upscale. Even with half the businesses empty, it's still pretty posh." Andy slows down, looking in both directions, and then rolls through the intersection. "Building is owned by some wealthy investor, lives on the other side of the state. Realtor had a showing at eight-thirty this morning, some guy flying in from Chicago to see the space. Power and water are on."

"Cameras?"

"Not a single one."

A growl works its way out of Zane's throat. "Well, shit."

"Pretty much," Andy returns, tone just as dry as Zane's.

***

The guy is hanging on the wall. Literally. His arms and legs are spread wide, bands of leather mark his ankles, wrists, and waist. A series of d-rings and eyehooks, short lengths of chain, all work together to hold him against the wall. His chest is a crosshatch of welts and cuts, light pinks blending with reds and purples and the deep brick red of dried blood.

It's all captured by the glow of recessed lighting. Four bulbs tilted, angled towards the body, leaving nothing in the shadows.

"Jesus, fuck," Zane mutters, enticed closer by the exacting marks littered over the guy's torso. "Talk to me, Lisa."

"More spatter on the walls and floor this time, most likely because of the way the body is positioned. We found some trace – sand and shells – on the floor beneath the body, could be from him or from the sicko who brought him here, and the back door was wide open. No damage to his throat and a lot more bruising. Maybe not be the same perp."

"Christ." Zane shakes his head. As much as it burns, he has to admit that the work, the way the skin is decorated, is masterful. "Make sure you get plenty of close shots of the leather and the marks in addition to a couple of wide shots. I need all of that before Jasmine takes the body down. Any idea who this guy is yet?"

From the back of the room, Miller asks, "You don't know him?"

"No," Zane replies, shaking his head. "Never seen him before. Lisa, a name?"

"Don't know, we'll run prints when we get back and hope that he's in the system."

Stepping back, Zane takes in the whole body, stops focusing on the array of color bursting over the guy's skin. "His groin," he says. "Right there. The two holes. Close-ups of those too."

"Yeah, okay, I see 'em." Lisa leans in and snaps off another half dozen frames. "Same guy then, huh?"

"Yeah, it's the same fucker."

"Did I hear you say you believe it's the same guy?" Doctor Elder's voice pulls Zane's concentration away from the scene.

"Hey, Jasmine." Zane motions towards the two marks. "Looks like it."

Pulling a pair of gloves on, she looks around and frowns. "This one believes in presentation. Both of them have been highlighted and displayed."

"Presentation is important," Zane replies, voice pitched low. Names of Doms who put an extremely high value on presentation start filtering through his mind. He discards a few right off the top, their complete lack of ability when wielding a cane removing them from the equation. He makes a mental list of the others, not necessarily as suspects, but definitely as people who'd be in the know.

He sends up a fast prayer that the killer isn't anyone he knows. Isn't anyone he's hit his knees for. That would cause him to rage.

"This was drawn out," Jasmine says. "To get that level of visible bruising, they took their time. We'll know more about what caused the damage after I get him back to the morgue."

Zane holds out his hand. "Lisa, gimme a set of gloves."

"Yes, dear." Pressing the latex into his hand, she singsongs, "Anything else, honey?"

Tugging the gloves into place, he ignores Lisa and steps closer to the vic again. "Right here –" he points to a set of eight vicious welts, the highest just below the vic's nipple, each one a little darker than the one before, the lowest in the series open and surrounded by dried, flaking blood "– that's a cane, see the width? And this group? Cane again. I want to say a single-tail for those –" Zane points to three small lacerations "– not clean enough for a knife. Those on his thigh look like a single-tail."

"You sure, Jefferies? They're not open like those others."

Zane turns around and meets Miller's gaze. "In the right hands, they wouldn't be. Bloodletting is a choice, not a given." Working the gloves off, he says, "Alright, people. Let's get him down and find out who he is."

***

"Time of death is between four and six this morning." Jasmine pulls her hands away from the body and looks up. Even in scrubs she reeks of education and class. Zane wonders how she keeps what they see from breaking her. "Some of the trauma appears to be hours old, the blood had time to pool and discolor the skin before he was bled out."

"How long?" Zane asks, flexing his fingers to keep from balling his hands into fists.

"Right now it'd be a guess," Jasmine says. "I haven't had him long enough to know anything more definite."

Miller steps in before Zane can snap out a reply. "We'll take it. We need some kind of timeline to work."

"I'd say it started sometime last night, probably no later than around eight or half-past that. The torture continued right through until he died this morning." Pulling her facemask into place, Jasmine says, "I sent his prints upstairs, they'll let me know as soon as we have a name. Tox has a swab of the punctures. After my exam, we'll mold the wound track; get a cleaner version than last time since it wasn't disfigured with a knife. That's all I can tell you right now. Give me some time, gentlemen. As soon as I know anything, you will."

Zane nods and steps away from the table, leaving the morgue on near silent feet. He needs a name, and that means he's badgering the wrong person.

***

Before Zane can say anything, Lisa points to the driver's license on the screen and says, "Derrick Bryce. Twenty-four, lives on Mulderberry, popped for shoplifting at eighteen, nothing since."

Zane glances at his watch. He's still got a couple of hours before Adrian will be up to entertaining visitors. Owning a club means the man takes to the night like a fish to water and rarely wakes up before damn near dusk. "You got those pictures developed?"

Lisa reaches over her desk and grabs a stack of prints. "Yup, made it a priority since you asked for 'em."

"Thanks," Zane murmurs, sliding the photos into a folder without looking through them. Then, glancing towards Miller, says, "Let's check his place out and then I want to run a few people down, see if they know the kid." Or, he adds to himself, recognize the work.

Miller tips his head towards the folder. "Got something planned for those?"

"A few people I know might be able to give us some leads."

He holds up a hand when Andy gives him a clipped, "Dammit, Zane."

"I know," Zane says. He'll be breaking procedure in about a hundred different ways. "That's why we're not talking about it here, and after we check his house out, I'm going my own way. I won't let this bleed all over anyone else. My choice, my penance if I go down. But I've got to exhaust every avenue, we've got to catch this freak."

Shaking his head, Andy takes a step towards the door. "I can't say I agree, but I do understand. Let's go toss this kid's house. Maybe we'll get some answers.

***

"Nothing," Zane says, disgusted. "Except that Derrick Bryce had to've been the neatest fucking bachelor I've ever come across."

Nothing had been out of place in Derrick's room. Nothing, not even a dirty sock sticking out from under the bed. It had raised warning bells for Zane until Derrick's roommate confirmed that was the norm. So much for the killer cleaning up behind himself.

Chuckling, Andy nods. "I'd have paid money for my girls to have been half as neat."

"Yeah," Zane replies. "Working homicide, man, it makes me do weird shit. Like, I make the bed before I leave. If something happens, I don't want anyone coming in and finding a shithole, yanno?"

"We all go through that," Andy says. 

"Well, my version of neat is still pretty much a shithole compared to that."

Andy laughs and then, as they turn into the department parking lot, he asks, "Still taking those photos public?"

Zane sighs. He should've known Andy wouldn't let it go. "What time is it?"

"Dinner hour," Andy says, patting his stomach with one hand. "Answer me."

"We've got nothing, Andy. So, yeah, soon as you park this beast, I'm heading out. Gonna start at the Eagle and work my way down, tapping every resource I have until something breaks." Zane falls silent, starts replaying the scene in his mind. He keeps coming back to one conclusion: maybe, if he'd pushed to have more uniforms out there, if he'd spent more time at the Eagle – where they'd found Derrick's car – Derrick Bryce would still be alive.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop." Miller, pulling into the reserved spot and killing the engine, cuts a glance towards Zane. "You couldn't have saved Derrick anymore than I could have."

Zane snorts. For him, that is debatable. "It's my scene, I can't… they're _my_ people." 

"I know." Andy doesn't say anything else. 

Zane appreciates that Andy leaves it there. He knows that Andy thinks he understands, gets that the other detective probably felt a similar kind of desperation when the bodies that were turning up were rape victims close to the same age as his youngest kid. The difference is that Miller couldn't put himself in the victim's shoes. He could worry. Could empathize with the parents. But he couldn't trade places with victims.

For a week now, every time he closes his eyes, Zane is trading places with Jonathon. And now he has Derrick to add into the mix.

He doesn't know what is pissing him off more. Either of the dead men could have easily been him.

It's a fact that is making Zane doubt his own ability to trust. He's afraid it is slowly taking away his ability to submit.

 

_**5.** _

Zane knocks once and then pushes the door open, stepping into Adrian's office. When two pairs of liquid-silver eyes meet him, he comes to an instant stop. He'd completely forgot about… "Lucas." With a mental shake of his head, he reminds himself why he's here. And it sure as fuck isn't to flirt with a piece of pretty, no matter how pretty the man is. Waving the folder of pictures, Zane says, "Hey, Adrian. We got another body, and even less evidence. Got time for a q-and-a session? Maybe run some scenarios together?"

"You look wretched." Adrian gives him a hard, critical look. "Not sleeping, probably not eating. We've had this discussion too many times, Zane."

One of the knots in Zane's gut loosens, releases a small measure of slack to his taut nerves. For the first time since the second body rolled in, Zane takes a deep breath. The familiarity, Adrian's overbearing way of showing he cares, gives Zane room to relax, to stop moving for just a few minutes and simply breathe. After another slow series of inhale and exhale, Zane grins and gives over to their usual bickering. "You know, if you want to keep the subs coming to your club, you might want to try being nicer."

"You're a sub?"

Zane cuts his glance back to Lucas, intending a sharp answer to the question. Instead he gets lost in the arousal – the intent and glee and _provocation_ – in Lucas' eyes. The room suddenly feels three times smaller than it was only seconds before.

"Contrary to his current headstrong display," Adrian says, breaking the building silence, "Zane submits beautifully. It is stunning to witness."

Growling, Lucas turns and faces his cousin. "Adrian?"

"Never," Adrian says. "No matter how tempting."

Zane's gaze ping-pongs between the two, head turning like he's watching a tennis match. Lucas' possessive tone, the warning way he'd said Adrian's name, makes no sense. It's unwarranted, as far as Zane is concerned. Adrian's reply is simply baffling. "Excuse me, standing right here." 

"Indeed," Adrian says. "And you had questions, yes?"

"Yeah," Zane answers automatically. "Let's start with, where were you last night, Lucas?"

"You can't seriously believe I had anything to do with a murder." The haughty tone almost makes Zane smile. The man is definitely accustomed to getting his way.

Shrugging, Zane meets Lucas' stare head on. "You tell me. You show up in my city and people start dying. Where were you last night?"

"Here," Lucas snaps out. "From open to close."

Looking at Adrian, Zane asks, "You got a problem letting me see the security feed from last night?"

"My word isn't good enough?" Lucas' voice gives away how annoyed he is. Mr. Moreau has a tell. Zane files that information away. 

"Not in a murder investigation," Zane returns, voice holding tight and steady. "I don't know you, and, even if I did, alibis have to be confirmed."

"Let's go upstairs," Adrian says, stopping whatever comeback Lucas might have made. "Zane needs to eat, and you," he points at Lucas, "need to understand. We both know you were here, and after reviewing the feed, Zane will know it too."

Lucas cants his head to the side, apparently accepting Adrian's demands. "I do not lie. My word…"

"Will mean more once Zane has spent time with you," Adrian interrupts. "You have not had time to properly get to know one another."

Zane's sure that, like the little display earlier, he's missing a large part of the conversation. It's not doing anything to improve his mood.

***

Zane slinks around Lucas and goes straight to the refrigerator. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until Adrian mentioned it downstairs. "Oh, you've got turkey in here. For me?"

"Of course," Adrian replies, tapping Zane on the ass as he walks by. He motions Lucas to a bar stool and then claims another as his own. "I refuse to eat anything that was once covered in feathers."

"Snob," Zane says, pulling sandwich fixings out of the fridge. 

"Maybe." Pointing at the bowl of fruit on the counter, Adrian says, "Add some fruit to that plate, Zane."

Wrinkling his nose, Zane grabs a banana. "Good enough?"

"A banana's fine," Adrian says, "as long as you drink some –"

"Juice," Zane says, holding up a glass full of apple juice. "Saw that one coming."

"You lied," Lucas says, breaking into the easy byplay. "You most certainly have."

Adrian chuckles softly. "We have not."

Swallowing, Zane says, demands, "Will one of you tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"Lucas believes that we have a history, an intimate history, together."

"Not for lack of trying on my part," Zane mutters. "I've tried everything and you won't sleep with me."

Warmth zigzags its way down Zane's spine when Lucas growls at his comment. It's slightly confusing.

"I won't let you kneel for me. There is a difference," Adrian replies, seemingly ignoring the tension rippling off of Lucas. "You are not meant to be mine, not in that way."

"So you keep saying." Zane scarfs another bite of his sandwich, keeping one eye on Lucas. He's more interested in his reactions than he is the conversation with Adrian. After he washes the food down with a sip of juice, he adds, "Doesn't stop you from running my life, though."

"You need a keeper." Adrian pushes the banana closer to Zane. "I just made it my job to watch over you until you find the right partner."

Zane doesn't offer any type of denial. Not so much because he agrees with Adrian's keeper assessment, but because he likes having someone concerned enough to put his foot down occasionally. Even if Adrian's definition of occasionally is a lot more often than Zane's.

"You are friends," Lucas says, sounding absolutely bewildered.

"Um, yeah." Zane sets his empty plate in the sink. "Is it that hard to believe?"

Lucas looks at Adrian and frowns. "Having grown up with Adrian, yes. He's selfish and stubborn and overbearing, just to name a few."

Laughing, Zane snorts apple juice through his nose. Pulling his t-shirt up, he wipes his face off and gasps, "Jesus. A little warning next time, yeah?"

Smirking, Lucas drawls, "Perhaps."

***

"Do you find me trustworthy now?" Lucas asks, leaning with his shoulder propped against the doorjamb.

Closing the security feed on his laptop, Zane shoots Lucas a sheepish grin. "I had to make sure. I probably could have gone about it more politely, but… " He let's the words fade off and shrugs. "I've got some pretty explicit pictures to show Adrian. You can look at 'em or," Zane looks down at his watch, "if you'd rather, the club should be picking up by now."

Taking the space beside Zane on the loveseat, Lucas says, "Will you get in trouble if you include me?"

Shrugging, Zane says, "I'll get fired if they find out I showed them to Adrian. What's one more person?"

"Solving the case is worth that kind of risk?"

Zane starts to say no, then stops and nods. "I'd do it no matter what. But this is more; it's personal. It's not about the case as much as it's about keeping my friends safe."

"Noble," Lucas murmurs. "Not everyone is willing to go that far."

"Well, I trust Adrian and you," Zane draws out the word and grins, "to not turn me in to my boss."

With a low laugh, Lucas says, "Ah, you do find me trustworthy now."

"You're definitely gaining on it." Winking at Lucas, Zane says, "You can come in now, Adrian. Bonding time is over for tonight."

"Busted," Adrian says, immediately walking through the door.

Lucas asks, "How'd you know he was lurking right outside?"

"Because he's nosy." Zane ducks Adrian's smack and sticks his tongue out. "And I'm sure he didn't want to get too far away in case we fell into an argument."

"Shows what you know," Adrian returns. "I knew you'd want to talk business sooner rather than later."

Growing serious, Zane pushes the folder into the middle of the coffee table. "If you're sure you don't mind."

"I want this man stopped as much as you do, Zane." Adrian reaches out and flips the folder open. "It's not just your playground he's infringing on, it's my livelihood."

Adrian stares until Zane says, "I know."

"Now, tell me what we're looking at."

Zane lays out the pictures slowly. Cycling through the pictures of Jonathon and then Derrick. "Jonathon's was, for lack of a better word, rushed. The killer didn't have the time to let the bruises start to form. The ME found discoloration that didn't have the time to rise to the surface."

"Because he was killed in the club."

Glancing at Lucas, Zane nods. "That's what we're figuring. Too many people, a tight time frame because of closing time." Tapping the second body, he says, "Derrick was taken offsite. According to his roommate, they hit the Eagle between nine and nine-thirty. No concrete plans, just drinking and seeing what they could get into. No one was surprised when Derrick gave them a wave and left."

"They didn't ask who he was leaving with?" Adrian asks, disbelief in both his tone and his expression. "That was foolhardy."

"Yeah, but, and I quote, Derrick was a big guy, taking him down wouldn't've been easy." Zane taps one of the wide-angle pictures. "Kid was big. Pushing six-four, close to two hundred thirty pounds. Guy was a gym rat and it showed. He couldn't have been easy to maneuver around."

"None of that helped him."

"No," Zane agrees. "It didn't. But what it does tell us is that we are looking for either a duo or someone with some serious strength of their own. When you add Jonathon into it, I'd go with a single killer who has the ability and know-how to lift dead weight."

"Why?" Lucas leans forward, elbows propped on his knees. His posture screams concern and interest. That he's open to Zane's opinions and knowledge gives Zane a sense of pleasure. He hates when people fail to take him seriously.

"Jonathon wasn't into the group thing unless Tracy, his Domme, was there."

"Okay, that adds up." Lucas picks up a full-body shot of Derrick. "Would Jonathon have hooked up with a guy?"

"Yeah, and, before you ask, Derrick preferred guys for play. He kept his submission and his sex separated." Zane watches Adrian trace a starburst of bruising on one of the pictures. "Talented, right?"

"Unbelievably so." Adrian frowns. "It is annoying. Knowing someone has skills and they choose to use them this way."

"Right?" Zane asks. He's been grumbling about that fact all day. "Problem is, no one at the Eagle remembers who Derrick left with, and no one saw who Jonathon was playing with. Dude is a ninja. See any tells in there? Any of the marks a calling card? I need a lead of some sort."

"No, nothing is definitive to a specific person. Not anyone I know, at least." Adrian picks up a picture, and then another and another, tracing the markings in each one. "And whoever it has been around the scene a while. Placement is too precise. No damage would have been done to internal organs, none of the bloodletting appears to be unintentional." Adrian looks up, mouth twisted downward with the beginnings of a frown. "How did they die, Zane? Jonathon had his throat slashed, but Derrick? I don't see anything so obvious."

"The slice to the throat isn't what killed Jonathon." Zane shuffles through the pictures until he finds the close-up of the punctures in Derrick's groin, of the sliced wounds in Jonathon's neck. "They were both drained."

Adrian's eyes widen and, quickly, he turns and looks at Lucas.

Lucas has the same worried look that's showing in Adrian's eyes.

"Do you think it is possible?" Adrian murmurs.

Lucas cuts a fast glance at Zane. "Is now the time to discuss this?"

Long seconds click off while Adrian stares at – _through_ – Zane. "He will need to know."

"Your call," Lucas says. "You are the heir."

Snorting, Adrian shakes his head. "He would need to be told eventually anyway, you know this."

"I do."

Tapping the picture, Adrian says, "Could it really be?"

"It would make sense." Lucas pulls the picture of Derrick closer. "Lilin?"

"Unlikely," Adrian says, shaking his head slowly. "There are very few Lilin I trust enough to not sense as a threat when they arrive. I've felt nothing out of the ordinary."

"Fair enough." Lucas rolls his lips together, then asks, "You're sure, right?"

"Yes. Not Lilin." Adrian cants his head to the side. "However, as long as they made sure to keep a distance…" 

"A Master or an Elder could fly under the radar."

"Yes," Adrian says. "Very easily."

"What?" Zane asks. "What am I missing? Lilin? Elder? What are you talking about?" Zane pushes off of the couch, starts pacing the length of the room. "And, really, you two have got to stop having these half-assed, private conversations. It's irritating and really makes me feel insecure, like I'm the joke in the room."

Lucas reacts before Adrian can. Standing up, he steps into Zane's path. "Never," he says, his voice pitched low. "You could never be a joke. Adrian and I forget ourselves at times, our familiarity with one another allows for stunted conversations. It is not meant to exclude you. There is simply information you do not have."

"Then tell me," Zane replies. "Tell me what I'm missing."

Nodding, Lucas asks, "Have you ever heard of the story of Lilith and Samael?"

Zane frowns, wondering just what the hell kind of explanation starts off with old folklore. "Yeah, something about an incubus and archangel, right?"

"Archangel or demon, depends on who you ask," Adrian says. "Either way, together they created the vampires."

"Vampires?" Zane snorts. Restacking the pictures, he shakes his head. "I don't have time for a Twilight Zone type of story hour. If either of you decide to get serious, let me know. Until then, I've got a case to solve."

"Zane," Adrian says, "sit down, please. Hear us out."

From the door, Zane asks, "Are you for real? Spend time listening to you talk about a modern version of Dracula? I need concrete shit, not myths."

"Vampires are real," Lucas interrupts. "And I can prove it."

Eyes narrowing, Zane gives Lucas a hard look. "Unless you've got fangs…"

Lucas and Adrian glance at each other and then, when Adrian gives a minute nod, Lucas grins, flashing a set of very sharp canines.

It stops Zane in his tracks.

"Holy shit," Zane murmurs. His innate curiosity has him stepping closer. He reaches out but, before the tip of his finger actually touches Lucas' teeth, he jerks back. "You're serious. Vampires?"

"Yes," Lucas replies, fast and succinct.

"It's the truth, Zane," Adrian says. "I've never lied to you before."

"You sure as shit never told me you're a vampire," Zane snaps, pissed off and confused. This feels way more true than false and if that's the case, if there really are things like vampires out there, he has to shift his entire worldview. Goddammit.

Adrian shrugs. "I never told you I was not either. And, for the record, I am not a vampire. I am Lilin."

"Christ," Zane mutters, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You sound like a defense attorney. It's not like that's one of my top ten questions to ask my friends, yanno?"

"Are you willing to listen?" Lucas is close, whispering his question – _plea_ – in Zane's ear.

Looking up, he meets Lucas' gaze head-on. "If you're dicking me around, I'll never trust you about anything. I don't have time for games."

"Neither do I," Lucas returns evenly. "There's too much at stake for me. Games are the last thing on my mind."

Lucas is still holding something back. Zane knows it, can feel it in his bones. Just like he knows that Lucas is being straight up with the little he said, assuming you can swallow the whole 'vampires are real' thing. Which, in all honestly, is a hard pill to choke down. He wants to call bullshit on the whole deal, tell both of them to fuck right the hell off. Except, something niggles in Zane's gut, tells him to hear them – _Lucas_ – out. He listens to his gut. Walking back to the loveseat, he drops down in an inelegant sprawl. "You've got an hour. Convince me."

 

_**6.** _

Dragging a hand over his face, Zane mutters, "Jesus, fuck. Demons." Three hours of talking and yelling, of hurt feelings and, finally, a modicum of acceptance, and all Zane can say is, "Jesus fucking _Christ_."

Adrian pushes a glass into Zane's hand. "Drink."

The double-shot of whiskey burns Zane's throat on the way down. Handing the tumbler back to Adrian, he asks, "Another?"

"Only if you're staying here tonight," Adrian returns. "Don't need you wrapping your Jeep around a tree."

"Yeah, I'll stay. Not like we're anywhere near done talking anyway." Zane accepts the second glass of whiskey and, fighting the urge to chug it down, takes a sip and sets the glass to the side. He has questions that need to be answered. Questions that have nothing to do with the case he's working.

"Did you start Trinity simply to feed?" It's the question that has been building since Lucas flashed his fangs. Accepting all this shit as real means he has to accept feeding as real. And no matter how Zane cuts it, feeding on the unsuspecting is assault, a form of rape.

"Not in the way you believe," Adrian replies. "We –" he motions between himself and Lucas "– are second-generation Lilin."

"And? What?" Zane shifts his glare between Adrian and Lucas. "The fangs are just a pretty adornment for Lilin?"

"Lilin are direct descendants of Lilith and Samael. We are incubus demons, a mutation that can only be created through our bloodline. We are born, not created. We feed on energy, sexual energy. Blood is secondary, and only needed occasionally. If we are injured or are creating a bond, then we need bloodletting. It is not necessary to our survival." Adrian sits back, watching Zane intently. "It is one thing of many that separates us from created vampires." 

"The people you take blood from…"

"When I've needed it, I've found it from willing partners, Zane," Adrian says. 

Zane cocks his head to the side. "How? Do you just say, 'Hey, I'm a vampire. Want to vent a vein for me?'"

Beside him, Lucas chokes on a mouthful of red wine. "One, we are Lilin. There is a distinct difference between Lilin and vampires. And, two, there are many underground clubs and groups who believe themselves to be vampires. They are very open to sharing their blood."

Zane knows the clubs Lucas is talking about, had an investigation in one when he was working vice. They all wear fake fangs and drink blood. He should of thought of those crazy fuckers before. "Trinity?"

"Trinity reeks with sexual need. Even on a slow night, walking through the open play areas allows me to feed without," Adrian draws the word out, "violating anyone's trust."

"Debatable," Zane whispers. Then, louder, "My trust feels really fucking violated."

"I've never fed from you. Ever."

"Maybe not, but you did lie to me." Zane drags a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Would you have listened to him if he had?" Lucas leans into Zane's space, dipping his shoulders low so he can look Zane in the eye. "When you first met, would you have listened? Or, what, a month later, when your friendship was forming?"

"I…"

"Honestly, Zane. If you didn't have the base that you have now, if you didn't know Adrian as you do, would you have believed him?"

Zane huffs a sardonic laugh. "Do I even know him though?"

"Knowing him, who he is, what he believes in, what values he has? That is completely separate from knowing _what_ he is. What I am." Zane's gaze follows Lucas as he straightens, leans against the back of the loveseat again. "Follow the facts. Adrian could have coerced people into his bed. Instead he has provided a fringe group with a safe place to play."

"He benefits from Trinity," Zane grunts. "He's not some kind of humanitarian."

"No, he isn't," Lucas agrees. "But he is working to make the situation the best he can for everyone involved. He's learned how to meet his needs without, what is the police term? Assaulting, correct?" When Zane jerks his head in the affirmative, Lucas finishes, "He's learned to meet his needs without assaulting anyone else. No harm, no foul."

"Of everything you've learned, what about me has changed?" When Zane starts to answer, Adrian holds up a hand. "Not what about the situation. But what about me has changed?"

"I don't know." Dropping his head against the couch back, Zane thinks about the question. Finally, he admits, "Nothing, I guess."

"Think about it, Zane," Adrian says, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the door. "And let me know when you know for sure."

***

Finishing off his third drink, Zane sighs and picks up the scrapbook. Again. Then, with the book open, he looks at the memorabilia scattered over the table. Photographs and letters. Miniatures and pressed flowers. An old bill of sale – four slaves from a New Orleans auction house – and then, attached to it, papers giving them their freedom and a parcel of land to call their own. A collection of mementos marking hundreds of year's worth of a life.

Hundreds of year's worth of life because Adrian is Lilin.

Demons and vampires are real. His best friend is a demon. And he doesn't even want to talk about the crazy game of flirt and retreat he's been playing with Lucas. Another demon. A very well-built demon that makes Zane's knees wobbly and weak, and his dick very hard. And their grandmother made vampires. An army of them.

Vampires. Demons. Mythology come to life. It's mindboggling.

Zane fingers the bill of sale again. The yellowed paper says more than any words could. Adrian purchased slaves – humans, people, a possible food source – and, within a month, deeded them land and secured their freedom. Land and horses, a home and a small amount of coin. Set them free but kept them within the protection of the white man in the mansion.

It leaves Zane with one thought: Adrian isn't a monster. He's simply Adrian. A very freaking old demon… incubus… Lilin. Whatever. He's the same Adrian that Zane has known all along. With a succubus and an archangel for grandparents. _Christ._

Pushing that thought away, Zane turns his attention back to the scrapbook. It's more real than thoughts of Lilith and Samael. The scrapbook is a reflection of Adrian. It removes the mythical from the equation. Finger rubbing against the protective sleeve, he traces an elegant script that speaks of the past as much as the date on the biography does.

> _1897_
> 
> _For over two hundred years I have wandered this continent and the next. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of nations, the annihilation of entire races of people._
> 
> _I’ve watched friends fall in love; mothers feed their newborn babes at their breast. Only then to watch those same friends, their families, grow and mature, age and, finally, die. I have come to know the circle of life intimately and I now choose to stand hidden in the shadows, firmly out of its reach._
> 
> _I will no longer emotionally bind myself with those who will come and go from my life. I will creep through the remaining years a solitary man, using the night as my cover as I search for the one mortal worthy of the honor of being my bond mate._
> 
> _Born with the heritage of the incubus, son of Dragoş, grandson of Lilith and Samael, heir apparent of the Demons._
> 
> _I am Adrian Ciorbea, the Prince of the Lilin._

The words on the page start to blur, Zane focusing on his thoughts more than the ink and parchment. "Come on, Zee. Time to get it together. Figure out what the hell you're gonna do. Run or stay… either way, you've still got a case to close."

"Have you ever run in your life?" 

Jerking back, Zane glares at Lucas. "You startled me." Then, rolling his eyes, he scoots down on the loveseat. It's a silent invitation for Lucas to join him. Despite the turmoil, the issue of vampires and demons and fuck knows what else, Zane wants – _needs_ – Lucas to be close, to be within reach. It's ridiculous. "Not going downstairs?"

"I'm where I want to be." Quirking a grin, Lucas sits down beside Zane. "Now, stop avoiding the question, have you ever not met life head on?"

"Once," Zane admits. "High school, junior year."

"And you've regretted it ever since?"

Shaking his head, Zane laughs softly. "Regretted it for about fourteen hours. I went in the next day, found the kid I backed down from and said what I needed to say."

"I can see that happening," Lucas says, chuckling.

They both fall silent, Zane's easy breaths filling the silence. Staring at Lucas' chest, Zane blurts out, "Do you breathe? Eat? Of course you do, Adrian loves Italian. And I know you drink, tied one on with Adrian too many times." Zane blinks and then frowns. "That's why that bastard can drink me under the table."

A deep rumbling laugh bursts out of Lucas. "He can out drink you because Uncle Dragoş believed a boy was not a man until he could hold his vodka appropriately. As for breathing, Lilin do. The demon keeps us alive longer, makes us near impossible to kill. We still need air and food just as any human would. We bleed and feel pain, grow older. We're just consigned to the Earth for an eternity."

Zane mutters what has become his mantra, "Christ. Vampires. Y'all really are vampires."

"We are Lilin, you are hunting a vampire. There is a difference." 

"So you keep saying," Zane replies. Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I get there's a difference, okay. But…"

Lucas reaches out and picks up an old stone; something that Zane is sure has meaning to Adrian. "Lilin are genetic mutations brought about through the combination of love and sex. No one anticipated us."

"No," Zane agrees, "I don't see how anyone could have anticipated you." He sure as hell has never foreseen anything like Lucas.

"The army of vampires was created by Lilith to be her protectors. They in turn created more vampires."

"Vampires are real," Zane says, the repetition necessary for himself. If he repeats it enough, it has to lose the ability to make him stumble and stutter over the words. When Lucas arches a brow, he says, "I always thought vampires were kind of cheesy. This is… it's a lot to take in, yanno?"

"Cheesy?" Lucas repeats. "I don't know if I should be amused or offended."

"Don't be offended. You're Lilin, not vampire," Zane says, smirking. "Besides, I was so very wrong. There's not a damn thing cheesy about the fucker I'm after."

"No, there isn't," Lucas replies. "Which leads us to, what are you going to do now?"

"That's not a loaded question at all, now is it?" 

"You don't have time to lose figuring out how you feel about all of this, Zane."

"No shit." Releasing a long breathe, Zane says, "I've been sitting here and realized this –" he points at the pieces of Adrian's past littering the table "– this is really who Adrian is. And that's someone I can respect. The Lilin thing makes my head spin, but this? This is stuff I can touch and feel and understand. It's all different permutations of my friend."

"And me?" Lucas asks softly. 

"You." Zane pushes out another sigh. Lucas obviously doesn't believe in easing into an interrogation. "There's something here, isn't there? Something more than just attraction?"

"I believe there is. I'd definitely like to hope so." 

Blunt and straight to the point. Zane usually likes that trait in a man. Except right now he needs a break, could use a little bit of obscuration on Lucas' part. "Do we really have to go there tonight? That's a conversation I need to have with more sleep and less whiskey behind me."

"A reasonable request."

Lucas' tone is even but the air around them crackles with something Zane can't quite name – apprehension, disappointment, want, all of them colliding together into one crazy, mashed-up emotion. "Hey," he says, needing to ease the tension. "I'm with you on this one. I'm looking forward to finding out exactly what this is between us. I just… this is important and important deserves my full attention."

"I like the sound of that." The tension in the room eases minutely. Lucas stands up and holds out a hand. "How about we go downstairs, you save Adrian from his melancholy thoughts, and then you get some rest? Your morning will be coming much earlier than mine."

Leaving the scrapbook on the loveseat, Zane stands up and curls his fingers around Lucas'. He's surprised at how warm – almost hot – the touch feels. It's not what he expected. He's sure his surprise shows on his face.

"It's the incubus," Lucas says. "It keeps us warm. Feeling attraction makes us even warmer."

"Makes sense." Zane nudges Lucas with his shoulder. "You must think I'm being a temperamental brat."

"Actually, I think you took it all rather well. You didn't reach for your gun once."

"Ass," Zane says around a chuckle. 

"You think I'm joking." Lucas' lips twitch and then curve into a smile. "I was worried for a few minutes."

Zane's chuckle breaks into a full on laugh. "Shooting you was the last thing on my mind. Can you imagine the paperwork that would involve?"

 

_**7.** _

"You're feeling good this morning."

Looking up, Zane stops humming and nods. "Had an idea last night." Actually, Lucas had an idea, but Zane's willing to take the blame for it. They need to redirect the investigation, need to open the door to other possibilities. "We're looking in the wrong direction."

"Obviously." Andy drops into his chair, his coffee coming precariously close to sloshing over the edge. "If this isn't something attached to your type of clubs, what is it?"

Zane ignores the poke at his lifestyle and says, "Vampires."

The look on Andy's face is comical. Zane hopes he showed a little more decorum last night. "There better be an explanation attached to that."

"There is, promise. This group I investigated with vice… run out of an abandoned warehouse –" Zane runs his finger over a loose file page until he finds the name he's looking for. "Absinthe."

"They believe in vampires?" 

"No," Zane says, shaking his head. "They believe they _are_ vampires."

Spluttering, Andy says, "You have got to be kidding me. They, what? Drink blood?"

Wrinkling his nose, because, yeah, that little fact makes his stomach churn, Zane says, "Yeah, actually, they do. But they also have these stupid teeth they cement onto their canines. Could be what we're looking for."

"Our vics are drained, Jefferies. Where is the blood going?" 

Zane's happy that Andy is at least willing to hear him out, that he's not putting up more of a fight. Of course, that could be because Zane is keeping the existence of vampires in the mythological realm. "Not completely drained. Jasmine said they lost approximately seven pints. Most adults have an average of ten. Little less for women, little more for men. Hit the right vein and seven pints can be done in less than a minute."

"Again, where'd the blood go?"

"Guess that's something to ask them, huh?"

Andy takes a long swallow of his coffee. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this nonsense."

Snorting, Zane shrugs, bites down on the fact that they're getting help from two incubus-demon mutations. Oh, and, that vampires are, in fact, very real. Which makes Zane want to point and laugh at all of the dumbasses at Absinthe. They'd probably shit themselves if Lucas went there and flashed his fangs. "Gotta work with what we've got, right?"

"Can we get a pair of these… fangs? See if they could even make the wounds before we start spending time chasing these guys down?" 

"Already ordered five different sizes," Zane replies, sliding the order form across the desks. "FedEx will have 'em here tomorrow."

"And today?"

Smiling, Zane says, "We work the case. Talk to friends, go over the reports. We are detectives after all."

***

"Like Mr. Wells, Mr. Bryce does not show any signs of penetration."

Zane nods, accepting Jasmine's report. If it is a vampire – a _real_ vampire – there wouldn't be. Adrian had explained that. The killer would want to elicit emotions, change the chemical make-up of the blood. Too lost in the thrill of the kill, the vampire would deny his own sexual pleasure until later. "That matches with trace. All of it was from the vics."

"The lack of a sexual bent isn't surprising to you," Jasmine replies, looking intrigued. 

"Jefferies has decided this isn't a sex thing," Andy says. "He's looking to blame vampires now."

Jasmine opens her mouth and, just as fast, closes it again. It's the most rattled Zane's ever seen her. Finally, she says, "Zane?"

"Not real vampires," Zane says, rolling his eyes. "There are sects that believe they are vampires. They have these fangs they can wear." Zane sighs and drags a hand through his hair. Straddling the line, trying to lead the case in a new direction but also keep the reality of vampires a secret, is exhausting him. "This group is an option. And I'm all about running the options."

"Actually, it's a reasonable theory."

"Yeah?" Zane asks, perking up. Support from Jasmine, the most logical person on his team, can only take some of the pressure off. "Seriously?"

"Depending on the length, the sharpness…" Pulling up an x-ray on her computer, Jasmine hums and then nods. "Distance between the punctures fit with a human jaw. It still leaves the question of the trace around the wounds, and what the blood was collected in. However, this is a feasible explanation of the wounds."

"Hell yeah," Zane says. He'll take whatever break he can get. Especially if it's one that keeps Andy off his back while he really works the case with Lucas and Adrian.

"I'll need to have a pair of the fangs to be sure." Jasmine says. "Lisa can run a few tests, see if we can match the molds. I won't go on record until we know for sure."

"I'll be damned," Andy mutters, his voice a mixture of impressed and disgusted in equal measure. "I thought the kid was full of shit."

Lips twitching, Zane says, "Since I might be right, you gonna check out the vampire club with me tomorrow night?"

It's a close call, but Zane manages to duck the coffee that spews out of Andy's mouth. Over Andy's choking and coughing, Zane says, "I'll have those fangs to Lisa soon as they come in tomorrow. Until then, I'll be on my cell."

With his coworkers chasing the improbable lead, Zane can spend time with Adrian and Lucas, chasing the real one.

***

"You need to talk to him." Adrian's voice fills the small entryway. "As you witnessed, he doesn't appreciate being kept in the dark."

Lucas snorts – and Zane can just picture him rolling his eyes – and drawls, "For your information, I agree with you. Last night just wasn't the time to talk about bond mates and connections."

"No, it wasn't," Adrian says. "Last night had enough going for it. He took it better than I anticipated."

"He's strong. Mentally and physically." The sound of shuffling footsteps fills the momentary silence, and then, "It's part of what drew me to him that first night, at Arcanum. The pull was so intense. I _had_ to stop and look around. Finding him not in the crowd but working a case…"

"Your timing could have been better," Adrian says.

The clink of dishes sounds beneath their voices; something heavy settling on the counter, and the icemaker spitting out chunks of frozen water. The entire thing is so domestic Zane grins. Adrian would despise being called housebroken.

"So, tell me what he likes."

Adrian barks out a short laugh. "He is listening you know."

"I do," Lucas replies. "Felt him before he hit the stairs. Eavesdropping is to be expected, I suppose. He is a detective after all."

"Keep telling yourself that." Amusement is obvious in Adrian's voice. "He had much better manners before he met you."

"Hey now," Zane hollers from the foyer. He automatically slips his shoes off and leaves his keys on the entry table. Discipline. Repetition. It's one of the things that Adrian gives him, has given him from the beginning. "There is nothing wrong with my manners."

"You were spying on us," Adrian says when Zane steps into the kitchen. "Shame on you."

"You were talking about me behind my back. Shame on you," Zane retorts, positioning himself close to Lucas. Not exactly in Lucas' space, but near enough that the thick knot that's been bunching Zane's shoulders since he walked out of the apartment and left Lucas – without any type of acknowledgement: no hug, no kiss, nothing – starts easing. It unravels more when Lucas' fingers dance low over Zane's back. The need to be close to Lucas is bewildering, leaving Zane speechless in ways he isn't accustomed to. "Hiya."

"Hey there," Lucas replies, fingers slipping beneath Zane's shirt and pressing hot against the skin. "Good day?"

Grabbing plates, Zane nods as he moves around the counter to the small table filling the breakfast nook. "Yeah," he says, setting the table. "Brought up the idea of vampires, well, the fakers at Absinthe. Our ME actually says it's a possibility."

"Good," Adrian says, sliding a pan of lasagna onto the table. "It buys you some time."

"Yeah," Zane agrees, taking the seat that puts his back to the wall. It's a habit picked up from too many undercover assignments: cover your own ass first and maintain open fields of fire. "This smells great."

"Thank Lucas," Adrian says, adding two slices of garlic bread to his plate. "We'd be eating sandwiches if you were waiting on me to cook."

Laughing, Zane doesn't even blink when Lucas fills first his own plate and then starts filling Zane's. "Why don't you cook?"

"Too many years of it," Adrian replies, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. "I do love the scent of true home cooking, though. Would probably be worth the time spent in the kitchen."

It's the first time Adrian has been so completely open about his past. His ridiculously long past. Adrian's trust in him pushes Zane to be worthy of that trust, to force his apprehension about the situation to go silent. It's easier said than done. "Better either of you than me. Cooking is not a skill I've ever had the desire to learn."

"We'll see about that," Lucas murmurs. "I'm sure I can offer enough of a reward to get you into the kitchen."

Excitement twines its way up Zane's spine, erupting in a burst of heat over his cheeks. "Holding you to that should prove interesting."

"As enjoyable as this is, can you two please both abstain until you have privacy?"

Lucas nods and, looking at Zane, winks. "He's just jealous."

Zane wants to tease and joke, but there's a truth behind the words that brings him up short. His mind flashes momentarily on the scrapbook from the night before. "You're purposefully alone."

Adrian cants his head, a silent acknowledgment if Zane ever saw one. 

"You let me in though," Zane whispers. 

"You are my exception, Zane. You are worth hurting for, worth grieving for."

The words hit Zane in the gut. "But you never… if I'm worth all of that, why nothing more?"

"You're a force of nature. I couldn't push you out after you got your foot in the door. However," Adrian looks at Lucas and glares, "the remainder of this conversation should really happen between you and Lucas."

Zane's brow furls in concentration. "That's what you two were talking about when I came in. Bond mates." He looks between Adrian and Lucas, then back to Adrian again. "You know when someone isn't…"

"Meant to be mine," Adrian fills in when Zane lets the words fade. "It's more that we know when someone _is_ meant to be ours. Someone who will fit into our life seamlessly, making it more and better. Someone worth living centuries for."

"Lucas?"

"That would be the something you asked about, " Lucas says. "Now is no more the time for this discussion than last night was." Lucas looks over to Zane and adds, "Please?"

"Yeah, okay," Zane replies, lost in a jumble of thoughts. He'll let it go for now. Because he needs time to sort it all out. And because Lucas is right, now is not the time. Jesus. Possible bond mate. To a demon, a Lilin. Zane shakes his head. Time to reel the conversation back to something less explosive. "So, tomorrow night I'm going to Absinthe, snoop around some. See if there's been anyone new on the scene."

"They'll make you as cops as soon as they see your partner."

Without thinking the comment through, Zane says, "No shit. That's why Andy won't be there."

Setting his fork down, Lucas turns his body to face Zane. "Who'll be there for back-up, then?"

"No one," Zane says, staggering bites of lasagna with the garlic bread. The food is ridiculously good; it's the best he's had since his parents were killed and he found himself on his own. "Not like there should be any trouble. I'm just going in for a looksee, maybe ask a few questions."

"Oh, I think not," Lucas growls.

Fork pausing halfway to his mouth, Zane says, "What?"

"You are not going in without back-up of some sort."

"Uh, man, this is my job." Zane slowly sets the fork done, measuring each movement carefully. He doesn't want to take his sudden burst of anger out on Adrian's dishes. The dishes are innocent. "I do know what I'm doing." He sends a pleading look to Adrian. "Tell him. Please?"

"Oh, no," Adrian replies, pushing back from the table. "This is most definitely not my business."

"You are not going alone." Lucas shakes his head. "No, absolutely not."

"I have to go in there and, like you said, no way will they talk with Andy skulking in with me." Zane picks up his wine glass and drains the deep red liquid. "This isn't yours to control, Lucas. No matter what this… this thing between us turns out to be, my job? Is my business."

"And you are my business," Lucas snarls out. "You will not go alone."

"Now wait a fucking minute…"

Waving a hand between himself and Adrian, Lucas says, "If this feral vampire is there, you will need one of us with you. It will be me."

Zane snaps his mouth shut. The idea actually has merit. "If anything starts shaking loose on the human side, I'm in charge."

Lucas opens his mouth and, when Zane arches a brow and glares, snaps it shut. 

"If anything happens, I have to play it by the numbers." Zane reaches out, covers Lucas's hand with his own. "I can't go in unless I can trust you…"

"You're in charge," Lucas says, jaw clenched and teeth grinding together. "As long as it isn't one of my ilk." 

Sensing how much that cost Lucas to say, Zane drags his thumb slowly over Lucas' knuckles and murmurs, "Thank you."

 

_**8.** _

"There was a perfect match with the fake fangs." Zane drums his fingers against his thigh. It's one of the few nervous tics he can't break. "Well, a perfect match if they sharpened them a little."

"So you've said," Lucas replies. "Multiple times. Talk to me, Zane."

"You're sure it's a real vampire? Not one of these jughead wannabes?" Zane shakes his head. There're about fifteen things wrong with the whole line of questioning, starting with _real vampires_. He can't say he doesn't believe in them. Not after he'd inspected the fuck all out of Lucas' fangs the night before. They'd been very fucking real and, in a turn Zane hadn't expected, ridiculously hot.

But, still. Real vampires shouldn't be in his police investigation.

"The clotting agent was there?"

"Something was there," Zane mumbles. He hates when someone uses logic to combat his pissiness.

Lucas pulls into the parking lot and, taking a space near the back, shuts the car down. The silence grows heavy and uncomfortable.

"Dammit." Zane drops his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. This case needs to go the fuck away.

"Ready to tell me what really has you worried and on edge?"

Blinking open his eyes, Zane glares at Lucas. Deflating when Lucas doesn't rise to the bait, he sighs, "Long shot or not, I need it to not be a vampire."

"Why?"

"Because," Zane growls. "I don't know how to catch a fucking vampire."

"Fortunately for you, Adrian and I do."

Biting back a laugh, Zane rolls his eyes. "Asshole."

Canting his head towards the club, Lucas says, "Let's go have a drink, fool around a little on the dance floor."

Fooling around just about anywhere sounds wonderful. Except… "I'm working a case."

Smirking, Lucas drawls, "Just enough to blend in, Detective. You do want to blend, yes?"

"Don't think that I'm buying the innocent-but-helpful act you're putting on." Opening the car door, Zane glances over his shoulder at Lucas. "Keep your hands above the waist and no alcohol. I don't care how much vodka dear Uncle Dragoş made you drink to prove yourself."

***

Stepping into the club, Zane sweeps a look over the tables and the bar. He releases a pent-up sigh when his gaze lands on someone he knows. "Finally."

"Finally?"

"I might be about to catch a break," he whispers to Lucas. "Redhead behind the bar? He's a sub I know from Arcanum."

"Let's go talk to him then." Lucas grabs Zane's hand in his and starts the winding path to the bar.

"Hey, Kevin," Zane says, smiling. "Got a few minutes?"

Fifteen minutes later, Zane's ready to scream. Yes, there have been a few new faces around, but that's the norm. No, none of them stood out as memorable. And, no, Kevin can't offer up any names or descriptions. The only piece of possibly useful news is that the same group of unknowns – three burly bears, which, if they're the sick fucks killing people, would explain a few things – comes in every Thursday night. They're always in and out by eight.

"I'm sorry," Kevin says for the third time. "But you know how it is. The more drinks you pour, more money you make. I can give you a call if they show up again this week."

"I don't want you caught up in this, Kev," Zane says. "Thursday is the night this bastard's hitting the clubs. I'll just lurk the parking lot and follow them out."

"If you're sure…"

"I am." Zane raps his knuckles against the bar top. "Thanks, man." Turning away from the bar, he asks, "Mind staying for a while? Maybe my luck'll hold and they'll show up tonight."

Lucas' lips quirk. "You're in charge, remember? I'm just along for the ride."

***

Dropping his head back, giving Lucas free reign over his neck, Zane groans. Two hours on the dance floor with Lucas has proven one thing. Zane has never been in charge; he was simply being indulged.

Lucas drags his fangs over the tight strain of Zane's throat, pulling another rumbling moan out.

Two things, Zane amends. Two things have been proven beyond measure. He's being humored and, surprisingly, he finds the idea of Lucas biting him dead fucking sexy. Christ. "Are you feeding off of me?"

"No," Lucas murmurs. "And I will not until we have had time to discuss a few things."

"The bond mate thing."

"That is one," Lucas replies. "There are others. Limits, rules, wants and needs to name a few."

Zane's cock jerks within the tight confines of his jeans. "Fuck."

"Eventually." Lucas nips Zane's earlobe, the flat of his teeth scraping and stinging but not breaking the skin. "At least, I hope that it is an eventually."

"Eventually and repeatedly," Zane says. He can't imagine anything so horrendous that he chooses to _not_ go to his knees for Lucas. Not even the idea of giving up his blood. "Are you going to drink from me then too?"

Zane feels a shudder race through Lucas, a rapid bunch and release of muscles beneath his hands. "Boy," Lucas growls, his voice deeper than only moments before. "This isn't the time or place."

"But it really is," Zane says. "No one here would find this conversation odd at all."

"Not until they got a good look, they wouldn't."

Lucas' fingers curl in Zane's hair and he uses the grip to tilt Zane's head back until they're staring into each other's eyes. Zane sucks in a harsh breath. Lucas' eyes would give the game up in the span of a heartbeat. The normal light blue is flaring into a brighter azure, lit with a possessive desire. His features are sharper, the hint of his fangs longer. He's still Lucas, but he isn't. It's a side of Lucas that Zane definitely doesn't want to share, not with a roomful of strangers. He's not sure he'd be willing to share it with people he calls friend.

Lucas arches a brow and drawls, "After feeding it'd become very evident that I am only what they pretend to be."

Rocking his hips forward, Zane hisses when his cock pushes against Lucas'. They really need to get the fuck out of here. He wants privacy for them to finally talk all this shit out. And a goddamn bed for after they do. Swallowing, he says, "I think we can get outta here now."

"At your leisure." Lucas releases his hold on Zane and steps back, smirking.

"Yeah, yeah. My leisure," Zane parrots, grabbing Lucas' hand and bulldozing a path to the door. "My _leisure_ is now."

They step out into the balmy night and, literally, stumble into Kevin.

"In a hurry?" Kevin asks, chuckling. 

"Um, yeah." Zane feels the beginnings of a blush heating his neck. "Look, man, you should give me a call. Let me take you into Trinity on my pass, yeah?"

"Because I tried to help with your case?"

Zane shakes his head. "Nah, kid. The case is work. Trinity…" Grinning, he cuts a fast look at Lucas. "Trinity is anything but work."

Kevin bursts out laughing. "I'll do that."

"You better." Zane looks at Lucas again. "Um, so, yeah…"

Shaking his head, Kevin looks at Lucas. "Pleasure meeting you, sir."

"Same." Lucas squeezes Zane's hand tightly, reining some of Zane's eagerness in. "And thank you for your assistance."

"No problem. Not like I had much to tell," Kevin says. "Get out of here, Zee. I'll call you the next night I'm off."

"Later, man." Zane starts moving towards the car before Kevin has a chance to respond. "Where're we headed?"

"Your place." Then, backing Zane against the car, Lucas leans in and licks a wide swath of Zane's neck. He hums softly when Zane goes lax. "I know what you want, what you're hoping for. But this moves at my pace. This isn't something for you to rush into because your dick is hard."

Zane grunts in response. There'll be time enough to argue that point with Lucas later.

"I'm serious, Zane." Lucas lands a slap to Zane's thigh. "I'll fuck you tonight. I'll make you beg and cry and bleed. But, no matter how willing you believe yourself to be, I will not take anymore from you until you've had time to think it through. Got it?"

Holding down the disappointment, Zane says, "Yes. Got it." 

"Good bo…" Head canted to the side, nostrils flaring, Lucas falls silent. Then he lets loose a menacing growl. "Your vampire is here."

***

"You couldn't find him?" Adrian's voice oozes annoyance.

"We looked, Adrian," Zane says. "Lucas kept looking even after I gave up. He tromped through the woods for over an hour."

"Dammit!" Adrian throws his glass at the wall and the scent of whiskey consumes the room. "This bastard…"

"Will be caught." Lucas pushes off of the wall. "I know what they feel like now, Adrian. They will not be able to hide. Not anymore."

"You didn't recognize him?"

"I didn't see him. However," Lucas shrugs, "I was close enough to know they are not directly attached to the Lilin."

"Unsurprising," Adrian murmurs. "That would be extremely audacious of someone attached to the Lilin, to attack within the heir's home." 

"Lilin or not, they are powerful." Lucas says. "They reek of it."

"Lovely. Not just a feral vampire, but an old one." Adrian starts picking up the larger pieces of glass. "Do we have a plan for stopping this monster?"

"Thursday night," Zane says. "I've got enough circumstantial shit to warrant more foot traffic out there this Thursday, especially if I beef up Kevin's description some. It gives me a couple of days to set up with the department. That cover should help slow 'em down, give us time to really find them. I'll need you two to make appearances at all of the clubs. Split your time between them and see if you can sniff this fucker out. That is, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Adrian murmurs. "Separately Lucas and I can cover twice as much ground at the same time. No matter the skill, either of us should be more than capable of bringing him down single handedly." Adrian looks at Lucas and grins. "It's been centuries since I've allowed myself a hunt."

"Me too. Under other circumstances I'd be looking forward to it." Lucas turns his focus to Zane. "Where do you plan to be during all of this hunting?"

Zane snorts, truly amused for the first time since Lucas sensed the vampire. "You plan on letting me be somewhere other than attached to your hip?"

Adrian huffs a laugh. "The boy has always been a quick study."

"It's good for him that he is," Lucas mutters, motioning Zane to his side and then leading him down the hallway. Over his shoulder he says, "It'll save on his punishments later on."

Adrian's laughter follows Zane into Lucas' bedroom. The closing door does little to muffle his booming voice.

***

"My punishments?" Zane isn't as averse to the idea as he's making it sound. Having that, having someone who he trusts with that, is something he's wanted – _needed_ – for too many years to count. Doesn't mean he's not going to make Lucas work for it, though.

"Yes." Lucas moves in close and starts pulling Zane's t-shirt over his head. "Consequences and punishments goes hand-in-hand with things like rules and discipline." He tosses Zane's shirt onto the chair and then reaches for the snap of Zane's jeans. "Both of them a part of our wants and needs. Get in the bed, boy."

"I usually sleep in the nude," Zane says, sliding between the sheets.

"It's only a matter of hours until sunrise. There's no time for anything but sleep tonight." Lucas strips off until only his underwear remains. "Your choices are nude and alone, or undergarments and me. Pick now."

Holding up the sheet, Zane says, "You."

"Good choice."

Zane waits until Lucas settles, then drapes himself across Lucas' chest. "Tonight?"

"Tonight, what?" 

"Tonight I wanna have that fucking talk that we're overdue to have."

"The first one," Lucas says, dragging a hand over Zane's spine. "More than one may be necessary before a final decision is made, you know?"

"There will be as many as necessary," Zane says, slipping closer and closer to sleep. "But, I already know I want more than this…"

The last thing he hears is Lucas whispering, "Me too, Zane. Me, too."

 

_**9.** _

Andy takes a sip of his coffee. "You think these three guys might be it?"

"I think they're the closest thing to a lead we've got." Zane shrugs and diverts his eyes. He's lying by omission to his partner. It makes him uncomfortable. Nowhere near as uncomfortable as explaining Lilin and vampires would be, but uncomfortable all the same. "We've got nothing. No prints, no blood except from our vics. Nada. Chasing this lead is the only thing we can do."

"You trust this bartender? Don't think he's maybe throwing you this bone but's really just covering for himself?"

Zane barks out a laugh. Kevin in a Dom's role amuses the ever-loving fuck all out of him. "Kevin? No. He's too small. No way he could've manhandled the second vic into place."

"Okay. Both kills happened on a Thursday," Andy says, "so it makes sense they won't strike until this Thursday. Gives tonight and tomorrow through the afternoon to work something up. What's your plan?"

Zane releases a sigh. Convincing Andy was the biggest hurdle. "We talk to the LT, get some people in the clubs Thursday night, preferably all undercover. I'll need for you to act as the coordinator."

"Works." Andy leans back in his chair. "Where you going to be?"

"On the move. I'll be rotating between the clubs. We've only got three majors – Arcanum, Trinity, and the Eagle – but there are a couple of other hot spots, places where our guys might be drawn to." He leaves off the fact that he'll have Lucas with him, and that Adrian will be circling the same clubs in the opposite direction.

"What about this vampire club –" And shuffles through the papers littering his desk "– Absinthe? You want people watching there?"

"Wasn't really planning to. It's their haven. I doubt they'll hit there." Zane can't see the vampire bringing the cops to the one place he's welcomed.

"Logical," Andy says, nodding. "It'd be playing too close to home."

Zane licks his lips. This next move is breaking protocol all over the place. Solo stakeouts are more than just frowned upon, they're outright banned. "Our witness says they show up there for an hour or so on Thursdays, have a drink and leave. Absinthe is not like a pool hall. People don't just drop in for a drink after work. So, um, I'll be starting the night there. I'll check it out and call someone in before I leave if it's needed."

"You're going to follow them."

It wasn't a question, but Zane answers anyway. "Yup, I am."

Andy drums his pencil on the desk. "I should tell you no."

"But you're not going to. You want these bastards as much as I do."

"And that is the only reason I'm going along with this stupid plan. And, for the record, it is a very stupid plan." Andy points a finger at Zane. "You will stay in contact, thirty minute check-ins with additional ones when you arrive at and leave each location. Miss one and I'm sending out backup and _you_ will explain to the brass why you were working rogue."

"Agreed," Zane says quickly. It's better terms than he'd expected to get, he's not going to lose them by trying to get even more. "Hey, we get anywhere on that enzyme thing?"

"No. It's driving the doc crazy not being able to get an answer." Andy frowns when Zane yawns. "What time'd you get home this morning?"

"I've had enough sleep," Zane says instead of answering. Another yawn breaks free, calling him out for a liar.

"Go home, you were on the clock all day yesterday and more than half the night."

Home. It's been a couple of days since he's seen his own bed. "You sure?"

"You're a danger in the state you're in and we sure as hell can't afford that tomorrow night." Andy pushes away from his desk. "Go on. Rest, relax, whatever. I'll talk to the lieutenant this afternoon and get this pushed through for tomorrow night."

"Thanks, man," Zane says, sincerely appreciative. "Make sure you call me if something breaks loose."

"Because I'd have never thought of that," Andy snaps. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

***

Kicking the door shut behind him and setting the alarm, Zane wrinkles his nose. The air is stale and the stink of the trashcan is creeping out of the kitchen and into the entryway. This is why he doesn't have a pet. Damn thing would be dead inside of a week.

"First order of business," he mutters, opening the sliding glass doors and then moving to the windows, "is getting that fucking stench outta my house. Christ."

It's not long before the scent of lemon cleaner and bleach overpowers the sour odor of three day old take out and an empty milk carton. He hadn't been kidding when he told Andy homicide fixed him of his slob tendencies. It just hadn't taught him to take out the trash yet.

It's when he's changing the sheets on his bed, stuffing the dirty ones in the washer and then flicking out the fresh, clean blue ones on his bed, that he has the idea to invite Lucas here, into his home, for dinner. And hopefully a helluva lot more. He needs this thing between them somewhat settled before tomorrow night, needs to be clear-headed and focused on the case. Ending up balls to the wall against a vampire isn't his idea of a good time. No matter how alluring he finds Lucas' fangs.

Not to mention, he's fucking horny and the one he wants helping him out with that issue is Lucas.

Grabbing his cell, he scrolls through his contacts on the way to start the shower, hitting send when he comes to Lucas' name. 

"Hey," he says when the outgoing message finishes, a beep sounding in his ear. "It's me. Was wondering if you'd like to come to my place tonight. I'm gonna crash for a few hours but should be up and moving by seven. Just give me a call either way."

Right before he hangs up, he remembers to add his address to the rambling. He's obviously more tired than he'd thought.

Feeling pleased with himself, Zane kills the call and steps into the steaming shower. Some quality time with his bed is next on his list.

***

Opening the door, Zane looks at the picnic basket and bursts out laughing. "I told you I'd throw some steaks on the grill."

"It's nothing fancy. Just easy to eat foods like sandwiches and fruit." Shrugging, Lucas steps inside and, bussing a kiss to Zane's temple, adds, "Thought it'd be easier than us trying to cook and talk at the same time."

"Grilling is not cooking. It's a right of passage of every red-blooded man and can be done while holding a conversation." Zane sticks his tongue out at Lucas and heads into the kitchen. "Beer?"

"Not if you want us to seriously talk tonight."

"Okay, then." Zane slides the two beers back into the fridge and grabs the pitcher of iced tea. "Tea or water for you?"

"Sweet tea?"

"Is there any other kind worth drinking?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Southern boy."

"And I'm not apologizing for it." Zane cants his head towards the deck. "It's nice enough outside, thought we could eat there."

Stepping out onto the deck, Lucas eyes the massive gas grill. "You know how to work that thing?"

"I do," Zane replies, smirking.

"I thought you were joking." Lucas shakes his head. "I'll take you up on those steaks next time."

***

Zane groans, one hand rubbing his stomach and the other reaching for his glass of tea. "I ate too much dessert."

"Admit it," Lucas says. "Having a picnic was a good idea. Definitely better than firing up the grill in this heat."

"It's October, this isn't true heat," Zane replies, grabbing his iced tea as he pushes away from the table and wanders over to the deck rail. "Not really."

"Oh," Lucas whispers, pressing in close to Zane's back, "but can be."

Zane rolls his hips back, grinding his ass against the bulging length of Lucas' dick. " _Christ_. I thought we were supposed to be talking."

Lucas trails feather-light kisses over Zane's neck, murmuring, "We will."

"Not if you keep doing that." Zane pushes back again, his point proven when they both release a thick groan.

"You are correct," Lucas says, stepping back. "If we don't stop now, it'll be morning before we're in a position to talk again."

Zane immediately misses the heat of Lucas' body. He stares out over his backyard until he hears the slide of the chair against wood. Turning around, he leans against the railing and says, "Bond mates."

"Bond mates," Lucas repeats. "If you listen to Samael and Lilith, it's because we're demons. In a bid to save our souls, the angels create one person to balance each of us, to provide what we are missing."

"Sounds whimsical," Zane says, smiling. "Is that what everyone else believes?"

"To a point." Lucas sips his iced tea, drags his finger through the condensation building on the glass. "Uncle Dragoş and Aunt Chelle believe that there is one person out there for each of us. That because of our longevity and our needs, it takes someone with something special, something extra to be our companion."

"Aunt Chelle?"

"Adrian's mother. Like you, she's completely human."

"You spent a lot of time with them?" It's in Lucas' voice, the tone that hints to a strong connection with Adrian's parents, with Adrian himself.

"My parents were killed, slaughtered, in all honesty, when I was young. They sent me to my room, ordered me to hide and to not come out no matter what." Seconds tick off in silence. Blinking, Lucas gives Zane a small smile. " Uncle Dragoş and Aunt Chelle found me in my closet, beneath a pile of winter coats. They raised me as one of their own. Gave me love and guidance, a heavy hand when I needed it. For a long time I believed I was Adrian's brother, pretended I was his twin."

"They way you two resemble each other, I could see it." Zane files away the information about Lucas' parents for another day. There's too much emotion in the air to add to it today. "It was my first guess, when I went to Adrian to ask about you."

Lucas' smile broadens. "Our resemblance has irritated Adrian's true brother for a very long time."

Zane walks over and drags a chair close to Lucas'. The fire burning in him has tempered enough for them to be within touching distance again. Setting his glass on the table, he says, "So, your entire family believes that you will find someone who is a perfect match. Is that what you believe?"

"I have to," Lucas replies. "If I do not believe it, I relegate myself to eternal life alone."

Zane knows all about holding onto hope. "Fair enough." 

Lucas leans forward, pitching his body towards Zane. "Besides, Lilith has Samael, Dragoş has Chelle, my father had my mother. It's a truth I cannot deny."

"And you believe I'm that person for you."

"You do not?"

Zane sits back and gives the question the thought it deserves. "I don't know," he says, quietly. "I know that the attraction was there from the very beginning. I couldn't avoid you at the first crime scene, my gaze kept wandering back to you. You were a distraction when I couldn't afford one. I even looked for you in the field pictures. I wanted you, and, more, I wanted you to want me. Can you honestly tell me, though, that you've never felt that instant draw before?" 

"I can tell you that in all of my centuries spent roaming this Earth, there has never been anyone even close to the likes of you."

Zane can't think of a proper response. It still sounds overly romantic, something a little girl hinges her dreams of Prince Charming on. However, he cannot deny the seemingly instant connection between them, the way that he's aware of Lucas. It extends beyond the boundaries of a typical attraction. The conviction Lucas has in his words calls for Zane to believe, to corral the logical side of his brain and see the possibility. To meet Lucas in the middle and give it, give them – _give himself_ – a chance. To suspend his disbelief and open the door for this flight of fancy to be true. Opening his mouth, planning to say, _yeah, okay_ , Zane shocks himself when he whispers, "Oh," and then, "yes."

"Yes," Lucas returns just as softly. Pulling Zane towards him, he brushes a simple and chaste, a teasing, kiss over Zane's jaw. "Always."

***

Long minutes pass before Lucas breaks the silence. "I want to take you to bed, Zane. Spread you out and feast on you, fuck you until you're an incoherent mess and can't remember your own name."

"Jesus," Zane hisses, his cock going thick and his throat going dry. Hearing Lucas say it is so much more than thinking it had been. "Don't tease. Please… _don't_."

"Not teasing," Lucas murmurs. "Not at all. I want you. No games, no toys. Nothing but us learning each other, saving the rest for next time, after we have time for another, longer talk. But –" Zane releases a choked off gurgle "– too much time has passed. I'm overinvested. If we do this, it'll make that bond you're not sure you believe in stronger. It'll tie us closer together. Because there is no way, no chance in hell, I'm going to have you begging for me, for my touch and my cock, and not feed off of the energy. I can't… I won't betray your trust by forcing somethi…"

Zane lunges forward and stops Lucas' words with the hard press of a kiss. He draws back enough to snarl, "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up," then, moving to straddle Lucas' thighs, dives right back in. He's vicious in his pursuit, biting and snapping until the tang of copper explodes in Zane's mouth. 

Lucas stiffens and groans, his hands going tight on Zane's waist. "Stop, Zane," Lucas says, pushing Zane off of his lap. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I'm trusting in you, trusting in _us_ , goddammit." Agitated and horny – fuck, _god_ , he's horny – Zane drags in a ragged breath, pulls his fingers through his hair, and paces the fourteen-foot stretch of his deck. "I don't know what I think about this bond mate thing. I don't know enough to think anything about it at all. But I do know what I feel. Fuck you if you think that I'm just going to ignore what's brewing between us because you've got some kinda –" Zane flaps a hand through the air "– jacked up sense of right and wrong."

"Zane…"

Zane barrels right over him, ignoring the warning he hears in Lucas' voice. "So you can either believe _with_ me or you can get the fuck out of my house. And if that doesn't put it in perspective…"

Jerking to a stand, Lucas snaps, "Enough."

Blinking, Zane closes his mouth.

"Kneel, boy," Lucas growls. 

Working on instinct, Zane sinks to his knees. And immediately opens his mouth to argue, a demand to know just what the actual fuck ready to tumble out.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Lucas says, circling around Zane's kneeling form.

Zane swallows down the words and drops his gaze to the floor. He doesn't want to get into some kind of pissing contest with Lucas. He's not trying to be the alpha dog.

"Good boy." The praise is matched with a scratch of blunt nails along Zane's scalp.

Heat races up Zane's spine and shatters outward, raising goosebumps over his shoulders and arms. He bites his lip to keep from asking for more.

Lucas hooks a foot around the chair leg and drags it closer. Sitting down, he touches Zane's shoulder and says, "Look at me, Zane."

Zane doesn't take it as permission to speak.

"I don't mind you disagreeing with me. As a matter of fact, I'd be disappointed if you were always agreeable. However, yelling is completely uncalled for." Lucas licks his lips. "Do it again, and I'll have you bare assed and spanked before you can say you're sorry."

Anticipation whips through Zane, his cock jerking and filling.

"And there won't be an enjoyable thing about it, boy. Understood?"

"Yes," Zane says, stopping his reply there.

Lucas huffs a short chuckle. "Go ahead and say what you're thinking. Don't need you choking to death on unspoken words."

"I agree. The yelling was unnecessary." Zane closes his eyes and sighs. They're either on the edge of a true understanding or he's fixing to blow the whole thing. Opening his eyes, he meets Lucas' gaze head-on. "But I stand by what I said. You told me about the bonding thing and I still want you. Whatever that brings."

"And if it's an eternity?" Elbows on his knees, Lucas leans forward. "Because it doesn't all flow one way, Zane. I feed on your energy and then mine fills the air and seeps into you. It'll make you stronger and extend your life until enough years have passed that you will be dependent on the bond, on me, to survive. As my bond mate, we'll be connected in a way that I cannot with other mortals."

Zane's lips quirk into a grin. "If turns out to be an eternity, I guess I'll have to believe in that bonding thing then."

Shaking his head, Lucas snorts softly. "Incorrigible boy. Tell me what you want, Zane?"

"You. Just like this." Zane relaxes into his position. "For as long as it lasts."

"You are not concerned, not disgusted about the prospect of my feeding from you? Taking energy and blood?"

"No," Zane sighs, _moans_. "Not at all." The idea is nowhere near as disturbing as he thinks it should be.

Heat flashes in Lucas' eyes and he growls, "Give me your words, boy."

***

Sweat slick and trembling, Zane tightens his grip on the headboard. He's wrecked, completely disassembled by nothing more than a series of words and touches. Touches that haven't even come close to his cock. Or his goddamn ass.

Lucas is showing no signs of moving beyond the teasing. Of finally, _finally_ spreading Zane's ass cheeks open and fucking him through the mattress. Of letting him come.

"Right here," Lucas murmurs, scratching along Zane's thighs. "I'm going to strap you down to the bed and fuck you open with my tongue and then my fingers. And when you finally break, when you start begging for my cock, I'm going to sink my fangs in right here."

Another explosion of _yes, yes, want_ starts in Zane's chest and radiates outward. "Lucas, Sir… I _need_."

"I know you do, boy," Lucas says, hands skittering away from Zane's groin, trailing fast and light over his knees, down to his calves. "But not yet." Lucas spreads Zane's legs wider. "No. Not yet."

The pull on his muscles burns through Zane's thighs, settles deep in his balls. The ability to think starts fading, the static buzz of white noise getting louder and louder until it drowns out everything except the rise and fall of Lucas' words.

"I want you to suffer for me, Zane," Lucas says. "Gonna chain you to the cross and flog you until your back is a riot of pink and red and purple. Until you're high on the rush, babbling and pleading for me to stop, for me to give you more." He leans in close, his breaths a chilling ghost dancing over Zane's ear. "Until you're craving the stretch of my dick and are willing to take it in front of everyone."

"Oh, fuck." Zane flexes his toes, tightens the muscles in his ass. Anything to bank the fucking instinct to rut against the air. 

Moving in closer, Lucas snugs his dick along the crease of Zane's ass, his cockhead pressing in beneath Zane's ball sac. Slowly he undulates his hips. "What would it take, Zane? Do you need my dick inside you to come? Or is just the thought of it, the promise of more enough to push you over the edge?"

Zane whimpers. All he needs is a little more pressure on his dick, a single touch, and he'll fire off like a damn rocket. 

"Which one, boy?" The tone in Lucas' voice demands a verbal answer.

"Like this," Zane gasps out. "Probably just like this."

The rough drag of Lucas' cock speeds up, his glans leaving a sticky trail of precome on Zane's balls. Lucas digs his nails into Zane's thighs and grunts, decorating Zane's balls, the base of his dick, with hot come.

"Wha…" Zane whines.

Lucas reaches between them and, dragging his hand through the cooling spunk, wraps his fingers around Zane's cock, jacking him slowly. Scraping his fangs over Zane's neck, Lucas whispers, "You may come when I bite you, when I take you as mine."

"Oh, _fucking_ hell."

"Oh, fucking _yes_ ," Lucas returns.

Without warning, Lucas bites down, his fangs piercing Zane's neck in an easy slide.

Zane's world shatters, splinters apart beneath the weight of pleasure and pain, seduction and release.

 

_**10.** _

Zane smacks the snooze button harder than is necessary. Cracking one eye, he stares blearily at the glowing numbers. Jesus. He really needs to find out if the demon thing means Lucas is limited to the night, or if it's a personal choice. Either way, something has got to give.

He likes his sleep. Is fond of lounging in bed and taking advantage of the peace and quiet. Getting less than four hours a night is not kicking it.

The buzzer sounds again, much too soon for Zane's tastes.

"That's for you," Lucas mutters, rolling over. 

"No shit." Zane curls into Lucas' side. The heat the man puts out is ridiculous. It does wonders for the old, aching injury in Zane's shoulder. "So, really, is the night thing necessary or just useful for finding food?"

Lucas shakes with laughter. "You're not eloquent first thing in the morning."

"Fuck off and answer the question." Zane stretches and yawns, cracks his neck and scratches through his pubes. Eloquent, indeed.

"The schedule is one of convenience."

"Then you need to work on embracing your inner beach bum and make one with the sun." Sitting up, Zane scrubs a hand over his face. "These late nights are killing me, man."

"Go get in the shower," Lucas says, pushing the sheet off of his body. "I'll have coffee waiting when you get out."

"Coffee," Zane says, a small smile curling the edges of his lips. "Make me coffee every morning, and I'll love you forever."

"And here I thought it was making you scream every night that'd do it."

"It's too early," Zane mutters, stumbling towards the bathroom. "Stop being a smartass."

The hot water wakes him up enough for the case to come back to the forefront of his mind. His sated lassitude is replaced by a tense need to get back on the job. Shaking his head, Zane picks up the pace. No reason to be assing around in a shower when there's a killer to be caught.

***

Back against the wall, Zane listens to Andy with half an ear. His lunch – roast beef on rye with a fuckton of spicy mustard – is sitting like a lead weight in his stomach. Something – _someone_ – is going down tonight. He can feel it.

Scanning the room, he catalogs the faces of his colleagues, his friends, and wonders which one he's going to get the call out for. One of the young cowboys, too new to the job to be appropriately afraid? Or one of the guys with too many years under his belt, looking to make headlines one last time? 

Fuck. He hopes he's wrong.

"Jefferies, you got anything to add?"

Giving Andy a tilt of his head, Zane kicks off the wall and moves to the front of the room. Faced with so many sets of eyes, the pretzel knot of apprehension twisting up his insides tightens. He'd like nothing more than to handle this off of the books. It's not like he's going to be able to book a goddamn vampire anyway.

Thanks to the ever-diligent throng of press people, though, hitting this one alone is no longer an option.

Clearing his throat, Zane says, "I was going to tell you we don't need anyone to be a hero, to make sure you have your back-up with you before making any moves. Instead, I've decided to let our vics say it for me."

Opening the case folder, Zane takes out the crime scene photos. Eight by eleven, full color time stamps of the lives lost. He splits them into five piles and, handing each one to a different cop, says, "Pass 'em around."

He waits quietly until everyone in the room has seen at least one of the photos. The air in the room shifts from one of enthusiasm to one laden with seriousness. It's what Zane was hoping for. "I know all of y'all are veterans. You know what you're doing out there. Thing is, so does this bastard. I don't want any of you to be the next case I work. Clear?"

"Yeah," and, "yes, sir," and "crystal," fill the room with noise. 

"Good." Zane points to Andy. "He's our lead tonight. Keep him in the loop or answer to him tomorrow. From experience, I can tell you it's easier to just keep him in the damn loop."

A small wave of chuckling washes through the room.

"Stagger the times for your arrivals, keep the eye contact to a minimum, and keep the shock of what you see off of your face." This case – and the undercover work needed for it – is going to fuel the gossip mill for days. Depending on how long the night drags on, Zane's business is going to be splashed all over the department. "I'll be in and out of the clubs, probably be tripping over y'all more than once tonight. Ignore me, and I'll ignore you."

Stepping back, he looks at his partner. "Ready?"

"As much as I can be," Andy replies.

***

Parked in front of Absinthe, Zane keys his radio and gives his badge number.

"You at the first location, Jefferies?" Andy's voice is distorted by the crackle of old technology. 

"Yeah." Zane looks at his watch. Lucas and Adrian are due in five minutes. Then the real game will begin. "Gonna head inside, see if I can get a couple of pics of these bozos on my phone."

Not that the mug shots will be any help. If these guys are the ones, Lucas and Adrian'll take them down before they get off of the premises. It's what Zane is hoping for. 

He doubts it'll fall together that easily though.

"You got someone riding with you, Zane?"

Frowning, Zane looks at his radio. Andy sounds worried. That adds to Zane's worries. "Outside of this club, we'll be on my playground. I'll have more people covering my back than I need." Zane smiles as a black SUV takes the space beside his Jeep. Waving the radio, he motions for Lucas and Adrian to keep quiet. "Besides, I don't have permission for any civilians on this tour. I'd never break protocol that way."

"Of course you wouldn't," Andy says. "Look, if things go south, make sure it's your gun that does the damage."

"You expecting something shady, Andy?" 

"No more than you are."

Closing his eyes, Zane grunts. "Well, shit."

"Exactly. Check-in is in thirty minutes. Don't be late. Miller out."

"Out," Zane says, tossing the radio onto the seat and climbing out of his car. Thank fuck his back-up is here; talking to Andy has only added to the heavy feeling in Zane's gut. Leaning into Lucas, he says, "Hey, you're early."

Lucas busses a kiss on Zane's temple and presses a thumb against Zane's neck. The skin beneath Lucas' thumb is unblemished, but Zane knows it's the exact spot where Lucas bit him the night before. 

"He's been nagging me for the past hour," Adrian says, staring at Zane intently. "And now that we're here, I can see why. Welcome to the family, Zane."

Zane shifts uncomfortably. It's ridiculous to be off-kilter because Adrian knows about him and Lucas. He knows that. The man has seen him submit at Trinity more times than Zane can remember. 

"Easy," Lucas murmurs. "Say thank you and let's move on."

Zane snorts. "I'm being stupid. Thanks, man."

Lips twitching, Adrian nods. "Now, tell me, are we really looking for the three men you told your coworkers about?"

"I do want to see them, just in case. No stone left unturned and all." Zane shrugs. "But, no. All they were good for was getting the manpower."

"Who are we looking for then?" Adrian arches a brown. "What's your gut telling you, Zane?"

"That it's someone working alone." Zane lets Lucas take more of his weight. "Self-assured, cocky even if they do hide most of the time. Small enough build to not come across as a threat. Charismatic, flirty, sexy. Safe."

"Not like that narrows it down any. Okay, next, question," Adrian says. "Male?"

Shrugging, Zane says, "I wouldn't rule out a woman. Not with what you've said about how strong vampires can be."

"What _do_ we know?"

"That you and Lucas can smell 'em."

"Jesus Christ, boy," Lucas says, laughing. "We do not _smell_ vampires."

"Whatever." Zane flashes Lucas a grin. "Both vics were into the lifestyle. So it just makes sense to focus on the clubs in the scene. At least it lowers the number of clubs for us to watch." 

"Trinity should be safe," Lucas says. "Can't see them being in town long and not knowing you own it. They'd hit there only if they're ready to die. That reasonably takes one more club out of play."

"And the pick-up window?" Adrian asks.

"Varies." Zane winces. Laying the case out shows just how weak it is. "Second one was snatched early but taken offsite, first one was later and killed in a playroom."

"I'm going to hit the Eagle first and then head to Arcanum." Adrian gives Lucas a hard glare and, pointing at Zane, says "You watch him. I actually like him."

"Oddly enough, I like him too," Lucas says. "Call us if you find anything."

"And you call when you're on your way to me." Adrian shifts his gaze from Lucas to Zane and back to Lucas. "Stay safe."

"You too," Zane murmurs, offering up a silent prayer as Adrian drives away.

This needs to end tonight.

***

Zane walks out of Arcanum, a frown marring his brow.

"What is it?"

Shrugging, he looks at Lucas. "Something's off. It's late enough we should've had a hit by now."

"That's not all," Lucas says. "You've been extraordinarily quiet for the past half hour."

Zane narrows his eyes and stares out into the darkened parking lot. "It's felt like someone's been watching me and then, poof, they're not. I thought…"

"You thought you were the mark."

"It felt like it." Sliding into the driver's seat, Zane picks up the radio. "Let me check-in with Andy and then we'll figure out what the fuck we're doing."

"Give it another thirty," Zane tells Andy. "Then cut everyone lose."

"How long are you staying in play?"

Zane rolls his eyes. His partner knows him too well. "Until closing time."

"I'll be here until you're done," Andy replies. "Keep your eyes open, Jefferies. This isn't done, not by a long shot."

"Copy that," Zane says, then ends the conversation. Glaring, Zane mutters, "Where the fuck are you, you bastard?"

"Maybe it was decided to not make a move tonight," Lucas says. "If you were the mark, there really hasn't been an opportunity."

"Because you've been with me the whole time."

"Exactly," Lucas says.

"Or, _fuck_ ," Zane says, turning the key over and gunning the engine. "Goddammit. Stupid, stupid. Should've thought about…"

"Zane?"

Pulling out into traffic, Zane snaps, "If you could sense _him_ , he could sense _you_. And there's only one club that isn't being watched tonight."

"Absinthe." Lucas starts dialing his phone.

Zane can barely hear the tinny echo of Adrian's voice. "Tell him to go in as soon as he gets there." Running a red light, Zane hits the steering wheel and curses again. "Goddammit!"

 

_**Kevin** _

_Running my fingers over his chest, I cant my head to the side. He's so afraid. So beautiful in his attempt to be brave. "You were my second choice."_

_He jerks the chains holding his arms. Desperate boy._

_Walking around him, I snap the cane against this back, watch as the skin splits and his deep red blood wells and drips down his back. His scream echoes through the woods._

_I have to do it again._

_Closing my eyes, I bask in the scent and the sounds. His breaths hold an edge of hysteria and his blood is steeped in hope._

_The silly little boy still has hope._

_"I wanted the cop. His righteous anger would've tasted heavenly," I murmur, moving until I can look into his eyes. "I chose you because of your connection to him. If he's as smart as he seems, he'll figure it out. Know where I am, who I've taken instead."_

_His eyes light up, the seed of hope fed and nurtured with a few simple – but empty – words. I will rip his throat out and let his blood soak the earth before I will let him live._

_"Does he care enough to offer to trade himself for you? Are you within his circle of important people?" I lean in and sniff, lick the sweat and blood from his neck. "Or will he do it out of guilt, knowing that he brought this upon you?"_

_The boy is imagining his rescue; I can see it in his eyes. The way his gaze darts over my shoulder, towards the parking lot, then moving through the woods. He's waiting for his cavalry._

_A small laugh bubbles out, sheer giddiness that this whelp believes he will escape what I have decided to be his destiny. I smack his thighs with the cane, inching closer to his groin with each blow. "Of course, for that to happen, he will have to hurry."_

_He drops his head back and moans, anxiety flooding through his system. Mortals are so easily manipulated. It is what makes them the best playthings._

_I draw back, another attack on the boy's abdomen looming on the horizon. Then, overwhelmed by a scent, I stop._

_The air is rife with Lilin. Not the one protecting the cop, but another. Stronger, and excited by the hunt._

_A growl reverberates through me without consideration. My time with precious Kevin is nearly at an end._

_"What is his name?" I'd asked before and was ignored, but now I will offer him what is sure to be his greatest wish. "Tell me the cop's name and you will be free."_

_"Zane," he whispers. "Zane Jefferies."_

_"Yes," I hiss. "And now for your release."_

_My knife reflects the moonlight just before it slices through his throat._

 

_**11.** _

"Not good," Zane mutters, spying Adrian's SUV at the edge of the woods on the far side of Absinthe. The driver's door is open and the headlights are burning through the night. "Fuck."

"Don't buy trouble," Lucas says. "We don't know…"

Zane jams on the brakes, skidding the Jeep to a stop inches away from Adrian's car. "Come on," Zane says, jumping the door. "He's got to be in the woods."

"Get your damn gun out," Lucas says, matching Zane's stride. "And shoot anything that isn't me or Adrian."

"Good plan." Ducking a branch, Zane unsnaps his holster and pulls his weapon. The weight is welcome in his hand.

Almost a hundred yards into the woods, they find Adrian kneeling beside Kevin, one hand clasping Kevin's shoulder, the other dragging gently through his hair.

Stopping Zane with a touch to his wrist, Lucas asks, "Adrian?"

"I stayed here," Adrian says, not looking away from Kevin. "I thought Zane would prefer his friend not be alone. You were right, the vampire… she is very strong."

"She?" Zane asks.

"She," Adrian says, finally looking up. "When I first got here, Kevin said, 'she knows his name.' You're definitely looking for a woman."

Zane pulls free of Lucas' grip and drops to the ground beside Kevin. Christ. It's his fault; _he_ brought this down on Kevin. "Is he…"

Adrian shakes his head. "Not yet. It's very near, though."

"Then do something."

Sighing, Adrian asks, "What do you suggest?"

"Fuck if I know," Zane snaps, panic edging his voice. "You're the Lilin, the prince. The _goddamn_ heir. Make him like you or one of _them_ or… just do something."

"Zane," Adrian whispers. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"You're grandmother made an army of hundreds, surely you can make one."

"He will wake up changed, not the same person he was," Adrian says, darting a glance down at Kevin before focusing on Zane again. "What you're asking for… it will take away his past, take away who he is. He'll wake up to a stranger staring back at him in the mirror."

"At least he'd wake up," Zane says. Reaching out, Zane trails his fingers over Kevin's forehead. "Adrian, please. This is my fault. I didn't even know the kid that well, but he's bleeding out because of me. Can't you see that? And there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. But you… Do something. _Please_."

"Goddammit," Adrian snarls, piercing his wrist with his fangs. He presses his wrist to Kevin's mouth, coating his lips with blood. "Drink, boy."

Zane looks between Lucas and Adrian and then down to Kevin. "Come on, Kevin," he coaxes. "Live, dammit."

"You hear him, Kevin?" Adrian's voice is tender, the tone a direct contrast to the words. "He's awful damn bossy to be a sub. Making demands on both of us. You better listen to him. He's going all out for you, the least you can do is drink."

Kevin's tongue makes a lazy swipe across Adrian's wrist.

"Good boy," Adrian murmurs. "Keep going."

The blood seeping from Kevin's neck slows and a scab starts to form. Zane releases a fast whoosh of relief. "Thank fuck."

Running a finger along the edge of the wound, Adrian says, "That's it. A little more and I'll be able to take you home, tuck you into bed to heal properly."

Long minutes pass, everyone watching as the ooze of blood abates to nothing, leaving behind a dark stain of deep red. 

"He can be moved now." Cradling Kevin in his arms, Adrian pushes to a stand. Looking down at Zane, he says, "Keep this out of your paper trail."

Watching Adrian walk away, Zane huffs a sardonic laugh. He might have saved Kevin, but it cost him a friend. "He hates me now."

"You're wrong," Lucas says, offering Zane a hand up. "Turning that boy proves just how much Adrian doesn't hate you."

"I don't know," Zane says. "He sounded so distant."

"As his childe, Kevin is his priority now. He'll do what's needed to protect him." Lucas cants his head and looks at Zane. "Even if that means pushing you away for a time."

Zane quietly follows Lucas out of the woods, thinking about everything that went down. When they break the tree line, he asks, "Do you think I was wrong for asking?"

"I think having the courage to ask is one of the many reasons Adrian let his guard down with you." Lucas motions Zane to the passenger seat, claiming the space behind the steering wheel as his. "What happened back there was between you and Adrian, based on the relationship you both have built. That he did as you asked is a sign of his respect for your feelings."

"I pushed him…"

"There'll be time for you to dissect it later, Zane." Lucas squeezes Zane's thigh. "For now you need to shake it loose. The game is still on and you have a part to play."

"Yeah, okay." Grabbing the radio, Zane closes his eyes and keys the mic. After Andy acknowledges him, Zane says, "I'm leaving Absinthe now. All's clear here."

***

Nursing his fifth mug of coffee, Zane stares at the case photos spread over the tabletop. The brutality of the kills makes his skin crawl. Raising the mug to his lips, he shakes his head. A woman. A chick. He still can't wrap his head around a lady being so violent, so destructive. Except, as Lucas pointed out in the wee hours of the morning, he's not hunting a lady, he's hunting a vampire.

A vampire who's also hunting him. Goddammit. 

"Thought we agreed to a late start today?"

Andy's voice startles Zane. Jerking back, he watches the coffee swell to one side of his mug, coming precariously close to spilling over the edge, and then ripple to the other. Looking over his shoulder, he drawls, "Thought we agreed you weren't going to sneak up on me anymore?"

Worry flashes through Andy's eyes. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," Zane replies. "But not much." Images of Kevin's broken, bloody body kept him tossing and turning all night. He'd given up around four and, after a fast shower, headed into the office. "Figured I could drink coffee here just as well at home."

"Drink coffee and stare at the case." Andy stands beside Zane, shoulder to shoulder. 

Stare at the women, Zane thinks. Pretty skirts just became a lot more dangerous in his mind. Feeling the weight of Andy's gaze, he says, "We're missing something."

"The plates you called in…"

"Plates?" Zane says, then remembers. The three guys who are not their killer. "Yeah, what about 'em?"

Bringing their mug shots up on the computer screen, Andy says, "All three have a record. Petty larceny, assault, drugs all around and –" he taps one of the pictures "– this one, Jimmy Williams, went down on an aggravated rape on a man." 

If Zane didn't know what they were facing, he'd be feeling pretty good about the case. "And?"

"I had cops sitting on them all night. They never went back out." Andy shrugs. "The way I see it, we might have the right ones. Between going to the bar and hanging out with known felons, we can pop our rapist for parole violation. He might roll on the others."

"I was being watched last night," Zane blurts out. "After those three trolls were cozied up in their homes, I was being watched. I could feel it."

Andy sets his coffee to the side, his face shuffling from affable to pissed. 

"Look," Zane says, hoping to head off the impending rant. "I didn't mention anything because it was just a feeling. That's why I was here at ass crack and looking at the damn case again. We're missing something."

"You think there's a fourth."

It's an easy leap to make, one that Zane was hoping Andy would bring up. He needs something to keep the case active until he can draw the vampire out. He's got no idea what the hell he's going to do then. "A mastermind."

Frowning, Andy looks at the pictures from the crowd after the first kill. "The planner. If we strong arm the…"

Zane shakes his head, interrupting Andy's idea. "Even if we get one to roll on all of the others, the case is too weak to take before a grand jury. So far all of it'd be circumstantial, built on the word of a rapist. Seriously, Andy, do you think any of them –" Zane points towards the mug shots of the three guys under surveillance "– are smart enough to pull off such a clean crime?"

"I'm surprised they're smart enough to tie their own shoes," Andy snorts.

"Exactly."

"So we've got a ghost."

Zane comes close to choking on his coffee. Andy doesn't know how near to the truth he is. Ghost, vampire, whatever. Paranormal is fucking paranormal as far as he's concerned. "You think we got enough to keep the tails on them? At least through the weekend?" 

"I know that look," Andy says, pointing his finger. "What's your plan?"

"Buy some time," Zane replies. "See if they lead us to the ghost."

Or see if the vampire comes to him. He keeps that thought to himself. 

"I'll see what I can do." Andy starts stacking the more gruesome of the pictures. "Just through the weekend?"

Zane nods. It'll be over one way or another come Monday. Even if he has to take the hunt to the vampire.

***

Halfway to Trinity, Zane pulls a U-turn and heads towards home. He's not sure Adrian is ready to see him yet; not sure that he's ready to see Adrian, not if the aloofness from last night is still lurking in his eyes. At the first red light, he looks down and punches a number into his cell. Raising the phone to his ear, he figures he's breaking at least five different laws. It might be time to buy a damn Bluetooth.

Lucas picks up just as the light turns green. "Hey, you on your way here?"

"Decided to head home," Zane replies, glancing over his shoulder and changing lanes. "Last night is catching up with me."

"He's not mad at you, Zane." Lucas' tone is an odd mix of chiding and understanding. "And the only way you will realize that is to man up and face him."

Zane's finding that he hates that Lucas can read him so easily. Sighing, he says, "Not until I get some sleep. Has he mentioned how Kevin's doing?"

"His wounds are healing."

Smiling, Zane says, "Good. How long before he wakes up or animates or what the fuck ever vampires do?"

Lucas' snort echoes in Zane's ear. "Rise. Vampires rise. He will need at least a week for the conversion to happen. The scope of his wounds is slowing the process down."

"Look, I'm pulling into my driveway now." Zane stops in front of his garage door and kills the engine. Around a yawn, he asks, "We need to talk tonight, come up with a plan to catch this bitch and soon."

"We will. Dinner?"

"Steaks at seven?"

"Make it eight. You need sleep more than you need food or planning." 

The sharp edge in Lucas' voice leaves no room for disagreeing. Not that Zane is planning on disagreeing. "It'll be cooler by then, too."

"Another bonus."

"Use the side door into the…"

"Garage," Lucas finishes when Zane yawns again. "And get the house key that's in there. I do know this."

"Yeah, okay." Shutting the door behind him, Zane tosses his keys on the side table. "Gonna shower and then rack out. Later."

"Rest well, boy."

Fifteen minutes later, shower damp and naked, Zane sets the alarm clock for a quarter to eight and drops back on the bed. The Tylenol PM he'd downed in the shower is starting to kick-in. Thank fuck. Rolling to his side, he pulls the sheet over him and lets the hazy darkness of exhaustion take over.

 

_**Zane** _

_I arrive at his house minutes after the sun sinks below the horizon, when the sky is going dusky with the onset of the night. Sensing neither of his protectors, I make a slow circuit of the house, making my way into his home through an unlocked window in the living room. Shaking my head, I whisper, "Fearless man."_

_His conceit and cockiness, the assumption that there will never be a threat bold enough to breach his sanctuary, will be his downfall._

Stepping into his bedroom, I cannot help but gasp. Even in sleep, his strength ripples off of him, filling the corners and crevices of the room. This close it is easy to see how he's earned the attention of not one, but two Lilin. Only a fool would not claim him as a consort. 

_His handcuffs are on the small table beside the bed. Standing out bright from the pile of his badge, gun, and cell phone. I pick them up and let them dangle from one finger. The irony of him being trapped by the same cuffs he's hoped to use on me is more than I can ignore._

_He mumbles incoherently and rolls onto his back, crooking one arm over his head. Such a good boy, willingly positioning himself for my convenience._

_It takes seconds and I have one ring of metal tightened around his wrist and the other through one of the slats on his headboard._

_I am close enough that his scent is heady, near to overwhelming. Taking him will be divine. It will also necessitate finding a new hunting ground. His Lilin will not allow his death to go unanswered. My only hope of surviving will be to leave. Immediately. Taking no time to savor my kill, escaping while his lover is desperate in his loss and the other is playing nursemaid._

_Leaning in, I inhale again. This one will be worth the upheaval._

_Smacking him lightly on the face, I murmur, "Time to wake up, Detective Jefferies."_

 

_**12.** _

Zane comes awake riding a surge of fear-induced adrenaline. Tugging against the handcuffs, he snaps, "Motherfucker!"

"Now, now," the vampire says. "Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

Glaring into the shadows, Zane retorts, "Show me the lady and I'll ask her if she's offended."

"Chained to your bed and you still refuse to back down." She steps away from the wall. "You are a brave one, aren't you?"

"You have got to be shittin' me," Zane says, recognizing his tormentor. Pretty and petite, blonde hair and nut brown eyes. He'd blown her off the night he met her, classified her as benign. What a fucking miscalculation that was. "Anna, right? If that's even you're real name."

"It is." Anna cants her head to the side. "You have a remarkable memory, Zane."

"Interviewed you at the Eagle, the day after you murdered Derrick Bryce." Zane darts his gaze around the room, cataloging the distance to his gun and the time on the clock. Twelve minutes after seven. Forty-eight minutes until Lucas is supposed to arrive. Christ. Zane pulls against the cuff again, rattling the bed. "Fuck."

"Don't wrench your shoulder out of socket, Zane. That would be painful." Anna opens the closet door, pulling two belts off of a hanger. "Given your lifestyle, I expected to find more tools of the trade."

Zane forces himself to not look at the drawers on the entertainment center. The last thing he wants is for this bitch to use his own whip to split his skin open. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Anna grabs Zane's left ankle. He hisses, the bitter cold of her touch burning into his skin.

"The cold surprises you." Using one of the belts, she binds his ankle to the footboard and then shifts, repeating the process with his right ankle. "Your Lilin, he's warm. It makes him seem normal, doesn't it? Makes it easy for you to pretend he's human." Anna grabs Zane's legs, her hands biting cold just above the squeeze of his belts. "For the record, Detective, I am no longer human at all. I am whom your mother warned you about: the monster walking among you."

"No, really?" Zane meets Anna's frown with one of his own. "That might've slipped by me if you hadn't mentioned it." 

"Do not anger me, boy," Anna snaps. "You will only make it harder on yourself."

Fury – and a healthy dose of fear – spirals through Zane. It doesn't stop him from flying off at the mouth. Very little has the ability to rein in his need to snap back. "And you can fuck right off if you think I'm just going to go silently into the night."

Releasing her grip, Anna steps back. "I'd beat that smart mouth out of you if you were mine." 

"Like I'd ever consent to being yours."

"There was a boy; he didn't have your vehement hate for me. We spent centuries together." Anna stares at Zane, a wistful look clouding her eyes. "He was taken from me by a mortal with a gun. I couldn't save him. Got there too late to turn him." Anna trembles. "And now nothing chases the cold away, nothing."

Zane suddenly understands. Anna isn't a simple vampire gone rogue. She's something a fuck of a lot worse. She's someone with nothing left to lose. 

Which means he has _everything_ to lose. Zane bites down on his bottom lip, silently praying Lucas decides to come over earlier than planned. It's his last best hope for getting out of this alive.

Trailing her fingers over Zane's thigh, Anna shakes her head and sighs. The faraway look in her eyes clears and the, now obvious, crazy comes back. "I had such plans for you. Pushing and pushing until you finally accepted, even embraced the probability of your death. Start with a crop, move on to a whip. However, the bond humming between you and your Lilin requires a change in plans." Anna props her left foot on the bed, and draws a knife out of her boot. She angles the blade until the lamplight reflects into Zane's eyes. "This will have to do."

Images of this woman's destruction, of Jonathon and Derrick, of Kevin's blood – _his life_ – soaking into the ground, flash through Zane's mind, a steady cycle of static moments in time. He is so fucked. 

"There's nothing as fine as the tang brought about with pure, untainted panic." Anna presses the tip of the knife against Zane's chest, a scant millimeter below his nipple. Slowly she sinks the blade into his skin. Pulling the knife, she cuts a swirling ring into his chest. "What will it take to make you panic?"

The deeper the knife pushes into his body, the closer he dances to true panic. No way he's going to tell her though. "More than a little blood play."

Anna tips her head back and laughs. "Oh, you really are a gem. Too precious to have been left alone."

Zane hisses. The tip of the blade scrapes into his sternum and over his ribs, trailing slowly towards the meaty span of his abdomen. 

Leaning over Zane's body, Anna licks the blood pooling around his nipple. She pulls her lips into a macabre grin, his blood staining them a grisly red. Pushing the knife hilt deep into Zane's side, she asks, "Tell me, whose consort am I killing tonight?"

The sound of splintering wood covers the wheezing sound of Zane's breaths. Lucas' bellow – _Zane!_ – echoes and bounces off of the tile floor. Adrenaline surges through Zane.

Huffing out a harsh laugh, he shoots Anna a triumphant look. "Guess I'm not the only one dying today."

Anna dives off of Zane and, glass shattering, slams the window open and disappears through it.

"Zane…"

"Window," Zane rasps out. "Go get her."

Lucas hesitates. Takes a step towards Zane.

"Get her, Lucas," Zane whispers. "End this."

As soon as Lucas disappears through the window, Zane closes his eyes. He bunches the sheet against the wounds on his chest, careful to not disturb the knife lodged in his left side. His breath hitches and tears escape, rolling through the sweat dotting his face and into his hair. The sound of his alarm clock pierces the silence.

Thirty-three minutes, he thinks. The longest thirty-three minutes of his life.

***

Stretching his free arm out, Zane drags the pile of gun, badge, and phone closer. Breathless, he finally wraps his fingers around the phone. His first instinct is to call Andy. But he really doesn't want to die tonight. Means he needs a bus, more than he needs a cop. His thumb leaves bloody prints on the keypad as he dials nine-eleven.

"This is Detective Zane Jefferies, badge number one-one-seven. I need an ambulance at fourteen-oh-two Plantation Trail. Suspect broke into my home and I'm suffering multiple stabs wounds, knife is still lodged in my abdomen." In the background, a high-pitched death shriek fills the air. Zane relaxes minutely, firm in the belief that the bitch has finally met her end. He hopes that she felt panic, a measure of unadulterated fear before she died. Sucking in a breath, wincing as pain lances through his body, he says, "Contact Detective Andy Miller and have him report to the same location, along with Lisa Abrams from CSU. Suspect is a Caucasian female, five-two to five feet four, blonde hair, brown eyes. She is to be considered armed and dangerous."

He stops, panting through another burst of stinging discomfort. Looking down, he sees the blood pool spreading out beneath him. Despite the knife filling the wound track, he's fucking bleeding out. 

"Tell 'em to hurry." His words are starting to slur together. "I'm sliced up pretty good."

Lucas steps into the room, his face a hard mask of satisfaction. He sweeps his eyes over the room, over Zane. The satisfaction etched into his face morphs into a stupid mash-up of worry and anger. "Zane?"

"Tell 'em my partner, Lucas Moreau, is in the residence with me." Zane pulls the phone away from his ear and rolls his eyes, nodding as the voice on the line keeps talking. "Won't hang up 'til I hear the sirens, promise. But, ma'am, I've gotta stop talking now." 

Dropping the phone onto the bed, Zane arches a brow in question.

"Dust to dust," Lucas says, carefully taking a seat on the bed. "Help is on the way?"

"Yeah," Zane whispers. His voice sounds broken to his own ears. 

Curling his fingers around Zane's, Lucas says, "Hush, boy. Concentrate on staying alive."

Zane's lips quirk into a half smile. He's done all he had to do, all he _could_ do. The far sound of sirens is almost as comforting as the heat emanating from Lucas. Closing his eyes, he welcomes the mental fog that heralds the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness. 

 

_**13.** _

"Come on, boy." Above the steady hum of machines, Lucas' voice sounds tired. "Time to open your eyes and rejoin the land of the living. If for no other reason, do it because Adrian is driving me spare. He's become nothing more than a shrew, going on constantly about how he needs to make sure you know he is not upset with you. "

Hospital, Zane thinks. He's in the hospital. He's alive. That fucking bitch didn't win. Blinking his eyes open, he rolls his head to the side, looking towards Lucas' voice.

"Hey there, pretty," Lucas says, relief showing in his eyes as the tension seeps out of his shoulders. He pushes a button on the side of the bed. "Nurse will be in soon."

"You… Anna?" Zane stops and tries to swallow. His throat is parched and his voice sounds like a three-pack-a-day smoker. Christ. Dropping to a whisper, he says, "Dead, right?"

"Nothing more than dust," Lucas replied, self-satisfaction easy to see in his eyes. 

Zane nods, just as pleased as Lucas seems to be. Eyeing the blood staining Lucas' shirt, he says, "You look like shit."

"Easy now," Lucas says, smiling. "You don't want to earn a spanking before the stitches are even out."

His mental sluggishness slowly diminishing, Zane huffs a small chuckle. It immediately turns into a groan. Good god, he hurts. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Lucas drags a hand over Zane's arm, "we won't be doing that for a while either."

"Our version of Sleeping Beauty finally woke up, did he?" 

Shifting his gaze away from Zane, Lucas says, "Just now. Zane, this is Tammy, she's been taking care of you."

"How long?" Zane rasps out, watching as Tammy adds another spray of flowers to the windowsill. 

"A little more than a day and a half, Detective," Tammy replies.

Zane eyes the overfull ledge. "All those for me?" 

"You're a popular man." 

That many flowers really only means one thing. "Popular or really close to dead."

"You're nowhere near that now. Let's concentrate on that, huh?" Rattling a cup of ice chips, she says, "Bet you have cotton mouth…"

"Cold beer would be better," Zane says, rolling the small sliver of ice over his tongue.

"Doctor Fredrick should be just another minute or so. He's the one you need to beg the beer from." 

"You'll have to wait a bit longer for that." The man steps close to the bed. "I'm Doctor Fredrick, Detective Jefferies. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The man's eyes are vaguely familiar. "You were in the ER."

"And the operating room," Doctor Fredrick replies. "I wondered if you'd remember. You were in and out by that point."

"Mostly out," Zane says. He doesn't remember much of anything. Talking on the phone. Blood all over his bed. Lucas' heat. And the friendly, hazel eyes that remind him of his grandfather.

"Not surprising. You had quite the number done on you." The doctor looks at Lucas. "Feel up to a cup of coffee, Mr. Moreau?"

"That's my cue." Lucas pushes to a stand. Bussing a kiss on Zane's forehead. "Be back in a few."

Zane watches Lucas slip out of the door, wishing that he'd stay.

"He won't go far. We haven't been able to chase him out of the hospital since you were brought in." Smiling, Doctor Fredrick says, "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Like I got stabbed in the gut then let someone poke around my insides." Zane looks at the doctor and arches a brow. "How 'bout you tell me exactly what you did in there."

"Fair enough." Taking a deep breath, Doctor Fredrick says, "We had to take your spleen."

The doctor keeps talking but all Zane can hear is a never-ending loop of _we had to take your spleen_.

***

Zane's alone for all of five minutes. Given everything, he could have used a little more time to get his thoughts in order.

"Good to see you awake," Andy says, closing the door behind him. "Was touch and go there for a few minutes."

"So I was told," Zane replies. "You here in an official capacity?"

"I am." Andy drags the chair closer to Zane's bedside, and digs a notebook out of his pocket. "Doc gave me ten minutes tops. Then he's kicking me out and letting your friend –" 

"Lucas," Zane says. 

"Yeah," Andy nods. "Ten minutes and then he's letting him back in."

When Andy falls silent, Zane smiles. "You're losing time, Miller. Ask."

Brow wrinkling, Andy says, "How the hell did she get the drop on you?"

"Stupidity." Zane scratches around the IV line. "I was tired. Didn't set the alarm system, took a damn pill to help knock me out. And, you know, because of the alarm, I never lock my windows."

Andy shakes his head. "Then what? When'd you realize she was in the house?"

"I woke up chained to the bed. She used _my_ cuffs on me. Christ." Zane licks his lips, tries to ignore the way his scalp itches. Fuck, he wants a shower. He _needs_ to wash everywhere that bitch touched him with scalding hot water and the strongest disinfectant he can stand. "Did you pull the cameras? They should've picked her up even with the alarm off."

"They did." Andy flips his notebook closed. "We got a clean shot of her face, and sent it out to everyone. Highway patrol, sheriff's department, all of the surrounding counties. We'll find her, Zane." 

Andy's so earnest in his conviction, Zane has to close his eyes to keep from blurting out that, yeah, no, they will never find her. There's nothing left to find. He almost wishes there was. He'd really like to gut her himself, get back a little of his own.

"The higher ups have you on work related medical right now, but, even after the doc kicks you loose, you've got to clear with the department shrink." Andy shrugs, as if he's apologizing for department policy. "Until then, you'll be riding a desk."

"I figured that much. Thought I might put in for some of my vacation time." Zane knows he's looking at four to six weeks of medical down time, plus another few weeks of light duty after that. No way he's sitting desk duty for that long. All of that's assuming he can even go back to working active cases. He can't remember if losing the spleen is one of those things that will take him out of the streets or not. "Hell of a lot better than being benched, yanno?"

"You got plenty of it on the books," Andy says. "Um, we released the scene this morning. Lisa's arranging for cleanup."

Zane knows that really means Lisa is doing the cleanup. "I'll have to call her."

"We won't let this woman get a second chance." Andy pushes to a stand, rests a hand on Zane's shoulder. "So, when they release you, we'll keep someone on your house."

"That won't be necessary." Stepping around Andy, Lucas perches on the side of the bed and laces his fingers with Zane's. "Zane will be coming home with me until he's running at a hundred percent."

The tips of Andy's ear burn red. Looking at Zane, he says, "We can talk about it when the time comes. Listen to the doc and do what he says."

Holding back a snort at Andy's discomfort, Zane nods. "I will. Don't want to be in here any longer than I have to be and right now he's talking at least a week." He waits until Andy leaves, pulling the door closed behind him, to turn towards Lucas. "So, you're going to nurse me back to health?"

"Rented a house right on the water." Lucas stretches out on the bed, then opens his arm in an obvious invitation. Zane wastes no time taking Lucas up on the offer. "We can both, what did you call it? Make one with the sun."

Tilting his head back, Zane looks up at Lucas through his lashes. "And after I'm at full strength?"

"Do you know why I showed up when I did?"

Zane frowns, confused by the change in direction. "Um, no."

"I _felt_ your fear. Because of the bond, I knew the exact second you woke up and found her in your home." Lucas presses a kiss against Zane's forehead. "I couldn't get to you fast enough."

"Oh," Zane murmurs. 

"You're mine, Zane. You're mine as much as I am yours." Lucas brushes a thumb over Zane's cheek. "To answer your question about after… Where you go, I will go."

Contentment – safety and promise, want and need – spills through Zane. "For an eternity?"

"For an aeon."

*****


End file.
